'Ok ma, stop making fun of my cake. I agree it's a little too thin and hard and saucer-like. All I did was use the freaking recipe you gave me! The blue color was my improvisation. Maybe I can use it to play Frisbee with my friends'; I concluded gauging the fact that my hard work may not be devoured with glee in my household.
'I guess no harm in tasting it', said my encouraging mom as she dug her teeth forcibly into the lumpy bar that was called cake. 'Eeauu *cough* Was the salt an improvisation too?'
Little research led to the fact that I had indeed used salt instead of baking soda. More research failed to reveal why I had committed such an act.
'Why do you make me cook in that case? You do it yourself from next time!!!' I stormed out of the room.
'But, when will you learn?' she looked distraught.
Fast-forward all the boring scenes including song sequences and we arrive at the present.
Yesterday, I came back panting and puffing from grocery shopping, with bag handles ripping through my skin. Before I could even slump the bags on the kitchen floor, Pi goes, 'Did you use the coupon for groceries?'
'What coupon?' I asked irately knowing where this conversation was going and trying to feign ignorance regarding aggravating coupons that had caused volcanic eruptions last week for self having ignored their existence.
'The coupons that I painstakingly sort out and keep aside. You could have saved 5 bucks today.' He showed me the location of those culprit coupons.
Defense mechanism at its best, I cut in, 'Whatever!'
A speech was in order about virtues of saving money and on how absentminded and careless and negligent and *few more bad qualities* I am. I'm quite immune to these allegations (rightfully false) as I have heard them all ever since my brain knew how to process external noises.
He looks at the bill. 'Why didn't you use your preferred card that was hanging in your key-chain? You could have saved another 3 dollars.'
I think Mr.Prim & Propah derives immense pleasure in this activity of busting me and desperately trying to make me feel miserable.
'How the hell did you know that? That store fellow never asked me to show it to him! So I forgot like the fifty other times.' I offhandedly remark not bothered one bit.
After a few more minutes, peace doesn't prevail. I get interrupted again. 'Where is the baby food and diapers that you bought?'
Investigation proves that I indeed paid for blasphemous items mentioned above. The only recent recollection of similar items happened to be in the cart of the next customer I had encountered in the store. Profound conclusion on my part revealed that I paid for the nice lady whose baby must be wearing my diapers and eating my baby food!
Ominous look from Pi gets me even more infuriated at his thoroughness and obsessive behavior. Maybe it's that involuntary training of being around me. But seriously, who the hell proofreads a bill? What about the time of transaction, is that printed all right?
'Next time you go shopping! I'm not going to bother.' I say trying to sound hurt, salvaging my pride.
'But, when will you learn?' he looks distraught.
It won't be very long when I'll hear the same thing from my kids. Sometimes, life feels like a still picture and not a movie.