I am a lazy maami.
A has-been.
Held a day job once, travelled well and went tippling down Madras streets at wee hours. Now I am an all-time mom stuck in a condominium who wants a break; a domestic Goddess who can’t cook, but can order-in; a citizen who has stopped tracking current affairs but is adept at domestic politics; hates weighing scales but hopes for better health. I am resisting yoga, hot gym, aerobics on the pretext of keeping home and hearth together.
I’d like to lead a life of sin and commit my days to the hardships of success. But I have a sneaky fear that I’m meant to atone, cursed to the life of a martyr at the altar of failure.
The playwright Eugene O’Neill said,”The people who succeed and do not push on to a greater failure are the spiritual middle-classers.” I shall attempt to inspect that line.
