The Fine Art of Dilly Dallying

It is 8 pm on a monday.  The first day after the (annoying but essential for morning sanity) daylight savings “fall back” sunday.  No wonder it feels like bed time already.  But, here I am, sitting outside little N’s orchestra practice in a school building.  With an hour and a quarter still to go before we are (ok, she is) done.  Seems to be the coldest day of this fall so far with temperatures right now in the low 40s.  But, worry not, I am snug as a bug in a rug in my cozy (and palichu) yellow jacket.  I contemplate cuddling up for a nap.  But chee chee, how to sleep at random places in front of (sitting) strangers?  Not that self-unconscious.  So, instead, I look around.

The kind-faced Chinese lady sitting at the table across from me is talking in hushed tones with her friend about “VPN connectivity”.  Her soft words sound like a lullaby to me. Rubbing my eyes and suppressing the urge to yawn loudly, I look around once more.  I see two business-like ladies wading through piles of official-looking paperwork with alarming speed and efficiency for this hour of the day.  Tiger sharks, I mutter to myself uncharitably. Self, after thulping Iyer girl’s version of a happy meal for dinner (vathal kuzhambu sadam, keerai, mor kootu, potato fry, vazhakkai chips, and one tiny but irresistible laddoo), is having more than a little trouble starting on the mind-numbing (150 pages single-spaced) report that just must be waded through this week.  Inwardly curse the enthusiastic new hire who scrambled around all day to victoriously hand me the report just as I was making a speedy exit from work this evening.

I call home to check on little A.  “She’s eaten her dinner and we’re getting ready for bedtime”, N reports.  With not much else to do and wanting to squander a little more time (anything other than reading that wretched report), I briefly consider trying out meditation (who was it that said – If not now, when? If not here, where?).  But, rather than follow-through on my wacky ideas, I laugh at them instead (only inwardly, of course.  I do have some madhippu among other waiting parents here, remember?).  I pull out my blackberry (yes, I am officially the last one on the planet still clutching a bb) and check my voicemail and email (nothing and nothing).  Out of sheer desperation, I troll around on FB for a few minutes.  No action even there.


Best get on with that report, you say?  Yes, I think so too.


2 thoughts on “The Fine Art of Dilly Dallying

  1. Did you finally get on it? I would have found some excuse, even if I had to make a nuisance of myself by talking to the tiger shark or Chinese connectivity woman.

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