I don’t like to think of myself as an opportunistic girl, but then I thought, if I am actually encouraging an all-night revelry with his friends involving beer, wine and other variants of OH compounds; I might as well get something out of it. You know for being the understanding, accommodating spouse simply dripping with the human milk of kindness and all that. I am referring to the World Cup Fever that gripped most Indian households in the past week.
The husband made plans and backup plans just in case something interrupted (Gasp!) the match telecast in between – he had it all sorted out a few days in advance. I must tell you he made no plans for our stay on our honeymoon, and sat up calling random hotels late into the night the previous day begging and pleading to put us up, but that is germane to this issue. The India Vs Sri Lanka match is the point here.
Patriotism aside, I said, “If India wins the World Cup, I want you to get a gardener who will bring some level of order to the backyard.” The back yard looks like the ecosystem belonging to forests, the plants die and the cycle of life blooms in wildflowers and weeds. I personally would have liked for it to have some trails too, but there is no place for trails. Not to mention the dried leaves from the neighbor’s giant tree that shakes itself and deposits around 3 metric tons of dried leaves in my garden every year. The problem is the garden is not big enough to have someone come in regularly and clearly too much for me to manage on my own. So it wilts and throws me looks of disdain every time I pass by. I wince and strengthen my resolve to have the “situation rectified”, and there matters stand.
“If you don’t call a gardener, I shall rake the leaves myself today.” I added for good measure. The husband has had a good Indian upbringing with regular doses of guilt as part of his diet and things like this did not seem to deter him.
“I will call the gardener.” he repeated.
“Yes….but if you can’t find one, I’ll do it.” Still nothing. The stubborn mule.
Well…I’ve had training too, and did not retreat. In fact, I kept upping the dosage till he backed off and said, “Okay…if I can’t find a gardener, I’ll rake the leaves and make the garden look like one.”
So far, I have only seen elephants throw mud on their heads, but if Dhoni can shave his head for the World Cup, the ardent supporter of the Indian Team for the past 3 decades can surely throw some mud over his head. *Insert Evil grin*
Update: The garden now resembles Dhoni’s head – bald and clean!