Moving times

Once again, it’s time to move. The bother of shifting, not finding something nice within our budget etc is not worrying me. Sab ho jayega at the last moment, in a mad rush. It always does. No point worrying about that.

But what I am worried about it is how to explain the rust splotches on the white walls of our bedroom to the landlord (should he ask).

It’s mosquito season. And once the lights are off, they get into action driving us into a manic rage by their bites and buzzing. We get up, switch on the lights and with a rolled up news paper (which is always at hand, since I like to play a game of sudoku last thing every night) and an enormous amount of pleasure, swat them, who by now are in drunken stupor on the walls and occasionally, right by our side, on our pillows.

A, has on one occasion, even stood up on the bed and swatted two on the ceilings.