Through a haze

Days flow into daze Clinging to routine as the only semblance of sanity Like fingernails gripping the edge of a cliff face while the rest dangles in nothingness Time washes over me over and over and over again But confound it...I still manage to feel unclean It hurts to keep quiet but shouting has never been my forte Learning how to live an adult life....it is monotonous and new at once But the dazed days are still the same And I am getting used to the fact that they might always be this way

I had been warned that they would be late but me being me I called up the movers-and-packers at least 6 times before they deigned to show up. Two nondescript men in a huge truck. By huge I mean too huge for my measly needs that comprised of shifting a lightweight small bed and a medium sized refrigerator. After having given profuse instructions to the 'office people' at the packers who sent these minions, I found the two men acting quite blank. I made one honest attempt to explain that the bed was here, the second location where the fridge was to be picked up and the final destination to which everything needed to be moved. One chap rapidly translated my Hindi into Kannada for the other one but could not seem to translate back his queries to me. I tried to explain the addresses in the hope that they would confidently say they can get it done themselves but the look of utter blankness on their faces made me quite sure that I knew more of their city than they did. Af...