Imagine this: you oiled your hair with a mix of walnut, castor, coconut, flaxseed, and almond oil. On the binary of ‘hasn’t bathed in 4 days’ and ‘self-care goddess’ you are on the latter today. You enter the washroom with a 15-minute geyser run-up, with a bottle of conditioner and body scrub. You get your currently obsessed-over playlist blaring while you adjust the water temperature. You enter the shower and put a big goop of happiness-smelling shampoo on your hair and lather it. You make a mental note to add Bhujiya sev to the grocery list.
The soiree is interrupted! Taylor Swift stopped singing because you are getting a call. Ignore it. The song resumes “can’t make any promises now can we babe?…” and stops again because the caller insists on a response. You answer the call, lather still in your hair like a cloud. It’s a guy waiting to deliver mummy’s Marks & Spencer’s parcel. You ask him to ring the freakin’ doorbell! He can’t, there is a dog at the door, he replies.
You ask him to wait. You call your sister, as the lather makes its way into your left eye. You wonder why all shampoos don’t use Johanson baby’s no eye burning technology is that’s an option. Amitabh Bachchan has done 2 rounds of Corona preaching, but no answer. “But you can make me a drink..” Taylor tries. You stop her and call the landline; someone has to answer that, right? you think. The lather is drying in your hair. Amitabh Bachchan is relentless. Finally someone answers. It’s mummy.
“the what is where now?” she yells into the phone
“GO OUT AND TAKE THE PARCEL” you yell right back.
“go out to whaaattt? R can you figure what she is going on about?”
R: “Go to the park? with…?”
You yell the keywords like she is a search engine “PARCEL. OUTSIDE. GO” 4 times
“A parcel!!!”
“YES!!”
“IN THE PARK?”
You wash whatever was left of the shampoo in your hair and considered that enough of bathing. Self-care Goddess shall deal with a parcel-bearing man scared of Goldie in the park first.