How do I waste time? Let me count the ways. Laughing and crying over Four Weddings and a Funeral for the 21sttime; adding my 220th friend on Facebook; reading pretty pointless poetry to get maudlin; writing a blog no one ever reads; trawling the net mindlessly while putting off writing that important email; dreaming of heroic deeds when those clothes are crying to be put out to dry. I waste time with all the insouciance of youth, a not-so-young woman anymore.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The ironing man needs to be paid and so does the electricity bill. What’s for dinner tonight needs to be decided now – the cook is clamouring for a decision. A long and busy day awaits. An important day, filled with important decisions and important clients and important meetings. What does it matter that America has a black president, that Kashmir has gone to the polls peacefully, that newer war zones are being created in our backyards, that Nobel Prizes are being won. The minutiae of her life absorb her; a minor insignificant foot soldier in the shaping of momentous history.
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It was a kind of flirting, she knew. Harmlessly provocative sms-es that make her feel more intensely alive, more than just a platonic friend. Suggestiveness over long distance seems less dangerous – and as suggestive, if that makes any sense. He sees her smiling into her mobile phone and thinks she has a great smile. He tries to catch her eye but she is too absorbed in her messaging. And so he gives up and turns to find a newspaper.
