If you are a regular blog follower, you know that my 2017 started with a bang when I lost my floors through a massive leak and pipe disaster that was conveyed to me by my landlord through a series of escalating phone calls while I was at work, culminating in my going straight from work to my parent’s apartment, to stay for 9 days. But now I am home! Finally! And it is dusty and gross and my air conditioner is sitting in the middle of my living room for some reason. But still, home!
I kept calling my landlord, every day for over a week, asking, “when would I be coming home?”
And then, finally, he said I could come and I packed up all my things and was so happy!
(Rushing back to your apartment and your 6 SRK posters is kind of like rushing to reunite with your true love at Gateway to India)
But then I arrived, and the place is kind of a disaster. It was not happy.
(Like this, instead of grieving for my dead Salman, I was grieving for my dusty Salman DVDs)
But still, I’m home! How bad can it be?