Moving and Moving On...

I moved to my new apartment this weekend. Again! From the first floor to the 11th floor: well, it’s been a meteoric rise in three months. People tell me that this place is even better. I really couldn’t care less. For me, it’s just a house, not yet a home and I doubt if it ever will be one. It’s a place where I go at night and crash and read a little and stare at the phone. It’s a place which still doesn’t mean anything, but it evokes a lot of memories, especially when I stare at the broken green sofa. And I can no longer hear that common dog barking, or see that puppy faced lost look. So yes, that “dog” element is missing and I miss it a lot. And this time I am cautious, this time I appreciate the transience of everything, especially good things! I was asked to move out of my home on Independence Day, so I am half expecting to be thrown out on Republic Day once our lock-in period expires.

Anyway I have been told that my blog is becoming boring since it’s so focused on my house problems, so yes, I am making a conscious effort to add some variety. Like the weekend for example! Uplaksh being in town, we decided to meet up, and I decided that my friends are expensive! And I also decided that I should NEVER go to Bandra: the traveling, the alcohol and the dinner make me broke, the beautiful, well groomed women out on a Saturday night intimidate me as I look at my own unkempt self, and the after effects of tequila shots and vodka in 20 minutes are embarrassing, not to mention the long dowry conversations in a very, very expensive auto ride back home at 2 a.m.

So yes, I am tired: tired of moving, tired of moving on and tired of fighting. I know I claim to be sober and sensible and strong when I am semi drunk, but secretly at times, I just want to be that little girl, to be taken care of and to be held…