Room Service

Monday, October 05, 2015

I've this fantasy.

It plays out with me in a boutique hotel. Perhaps, with the addition of my laptop. 8 Mbps broadband speed and my Mac connected to it. We can assume at this stage I threw my phone in the pond. Anyway, Airtel Bharti needs to fix their ridiculously poor network and at this stage we are talking about a fantasy, not rant.

Right, so we were in that Boutique hotel (notice how the second b got an upper case treatment?). I step out of the shower in the world's most (okay, India's most) thickest bathrobe, to slide into 1600 thread count sheet. The room temperature is easily between 26-28, balmy almost. The room is ventilated with natural light, give or take atleast ten degrees lower than the weather outside. It's quiet, no bass jazz or such to serenade and distract. I alternate between the television and the room service menu, then the laptop and the menu. I make my mind to stream an old season of Downton Abbey and order myself a double serving of home style fries with wasabi and mustard. I request for cheese to be replaced with ketchup, courtesy metal in the mouth.

I proceed to take a nap until the door bell rings. I now have my plate of perfectly crisp and salted fries with the condiments. I'm in the world's comfiest bathrobe with no deadline, no edit problem, no research subjects to catch hold of, no renovation nonsense and definitely, nothing that requires me to run from pillar to pillar to locate the damn signal for my phone. I polish the plate off and drop some ketchup on my bathrobe. Cue to change into jeans (oh no why is this fantasy ending?), pack your laptop and go for the interview and consequently write 15k meaningful words for the damn dissertation.

You Might Also Like


Hos in Different Area Codes


Stalker Count