the man who never ceases to surprise...

The late late, very late almost morning post

It’s been a while since I found myself awake and sleepless so late into the night, to be precise its 4:21:46-47 a.m EST. I never paid much attention to time zones before, but here I am specifying which time zone I am in. It makes matter complicated especially when a country has three time zones and the time changing in every 6 months. We international student have hard time calculating the time back home, especially when you have to remember which time zone you are and then know if it’s day light saving or daylight wastage time of the year. Why to make your life more complicated than it already is. Or then again they are just trying to scare away Mexican immigrants by their complexities of time system. That said, summer is here, I must say it is a respite from the night is dark and full of terrors (you do get to know the actually fears of winter after staying through the most mildest of all winters in a 100 years) but I swear to god I probably smell like a freshly fried beacon the moment I step out from the safety of my damp apartment. This comes from a mumbaikar who has faced the stuffiest of summers and monsoons in more stuffed train locals. Summers in which you actually felt like carrying condensers only so you could breath (nerd joke alert) and also spending some really long and complaining summers in Kolkata, I have been born and raised in humidity and I find it unbearable in here.

Change of topic: pokemon go.. seems to be quite a thaang right now, eh.. (yeah catching on the accent yo,) it has divided the whole of the 7 billion (is it?) into 4 categories.

     1.     Pokemon go craziers- people whose life’s purpose is to be the pokemasters , potentially everyone who plays it dreams about it .

      2.       Pokemon don’t carers – what? When? Bleh……

      3.       Pokemon non getters – people who are a fan but have an incompetent phone. (me!)

      4.       Pokemon wanna bes, pretendzees ( i am really getting the hang of american vocab huh!) – people who know zilch about pokemon but want to join the crazy herd.

The power that pokemon go has harnessed is incredibly freaky. It just proves that a certain “something” is edging towards world domination. This might just be a test trail for the real thing to come into operation. You will blame the heat for my crazy conspiratorial talk, but don’t tell me you didn’t feel the chill go down your spine when you saw masses of people running about crazed in parks and sidewalk when someone claims to see a rare pokemon, or when you hear weird stories about people leaving their jobs in conquest of being the pokemon masters. (no this is not a talk out of jealousy either). Actually I got a pretty interesting idea for a story right there. May be I will publish for the generation which comes after there is a revolution and world domination comes to an end ( a book named, "told you so!", nothing sells better than an obnoxious self gloating title!) 

wake up world!!! 

I really don’t know why staying up late makes my nose an oil field! It will save US lot of trouble to just harvest the oils from my nose than meddling their nose into others affairs. till then PIKA PIKA!!!

Oh and a very interesting theory on the world of pokemon, check it out if you want your happy pokeworld to shatter http://9gag.com/gag/a7dDxQw?ref=fbp

Just can't get enough of pikachu gifs! :/ 

philosopher's ramblings: Part 1

DISCLAIMER: Dark mood ahead.

Remember the time when you promised yourself you will not change what you are, that you love yourself the way you are. But just like the moon morphing itself gradually with time you change too. Whether you like it or not. You are not what you were 5 years ago, hell not even few seconds ago. Some people say “never change yourself” think again are they giving you a good advise or a bad one. Change is happening and whether you want that to happen or not.

Sometimes you feel like the captain of the ship, who has no control on the winds which is forcing the ship go in the direction its not suppose to go. Its strange when you look back to all the things you did and thought you did do. The explanations you had for all kinds of theories, the ample possibility of your kaleidoscopic imagination, when you actually thought you could win the world with your imagination super power. And then suddenly while you were sniffing benzol in the lab you come across a bottle of ammonia and recoil with disgust, but by then the smell stays, obliterating any traces of the sweet scent of benzol. The sting of ammonia knocking on the peeling black door of reality.

If someone asked me why did you change if you didn’t want to? I would answer him by smacking his head with a heavy book of “on the origin of species”(by Charles Darwin). The whole book boils down to this point that “if you ain't changing you ain't surviving”.

If you had the power to be how you were, would you go back to your old self?  A Penny for your thought.

notes from seas apart

I am finally here! Can you (random)guys believe it! (pretending i have regular viewers) all the slogging and tantrums and mood swinging to moon and back, the sweat drenching anxiety ridden long wait has finally FINALLY bought me away from home. Just not away, but seven seas, 13,568 km, 10 hours away!! It just doesn't set into me. Every morning i wake up and see it's 11 and wonder how come my door hasn't been broken down yet by my early to rise parents, i just groan at the time and stuff my head back into the pillow. You do realise while reading this basket of jumbled sentences i have finally set my foot out, out from my loving over protective very happening bengali family, from the city of dreams and love to some place strange and wonderful and adventurous.
I am over romanticizing. You are hit by the ruthless and demanding nature of grocery shopping, the attention seeking laundry and the requirements of doing the dishes. You get the picture right?
But alls not that dull and dutiful. There is the amazing weather if you like -20s! And dazzling white-white skins if you are a racist. And a loving (south) indian community who seem to think telugu is the language of prime importance. So yeah, I am in paradise. It's like someone just cleaned your dirty specs. It's like you were living in a room where you could see brownian motion and someone just switched on the vaccum cleaner and the air was clean. (i know horrible joke) 
I am home sick and euphoric at the same moment, most of the times. It's so surreal that i feel its inception. My nightmare being I have picked up their lethal drawl. Next to the aussie's rotten accent I think American drawl tops the list. Cross your fingers that I don't pick up with the top 3 disgusting accents which includes overdone american- indian (NRI wannabes) accent.
I thought i should fill in with tit bits of life. I had the most filmy farewells(truly), the most teary goodbyes (yeah right!) and the un-happening flight (other than when i was expecting breakfast they give you lunch!) 
The only reason why i suddenly got time to write this rambling done is cause i seem to find time when i am always short of time. Amazingly me! I amaze me man! chalo I hope to catch up with you soon my ""imaginary"" "regular" readers. No I don't think i am some psychic kid having imaginary friends, atleast i hope not! :/ 

There is no right or wrong, just consequences...

lehrein ayi, lehro mein beh gayi...

A song, a feeling, a scenery, a painting, few lights, a misunderstood joke, a lizard perhaps (i miss my marley) urges you to write a line or two may be. Suddenly while doing a very clerical and tedious job i stumble into a song which makes me want to write. An urge i had lost in the hum drum of this ordinary chaos. So 2014 is at an end, and one more circle completes of the many rings that forges into a man's life. It would be interesting if a man wore a chain forged by no. of years lived (i am sure the ladies would not approve of it!)
To review this year, is something that frightens me. A year of drama, of tears and happiness of shocks and despairs, of guilty pleasures and partying :D a mini TV serial, (a hindi soap drama for sure) A year of lost and found. I always get melancholy as the last week of the year approaches. Apprehensions of the coming year eats up the joy of a year successfully surviving with head over my shoulders. or may be it's just the blues. And sometimes life creeps you out when you have your friends boyfriend's misc tape and see his name and picture in album art (AWKWARD!) instead of Nickleback's.
I think my refill of writing has exhausted. I need to get a new refill from the inspiration shop hopefully he has one to fit my miracle writing pen. :/
CIAO!

makhi meri jaan!

Disclainer: the following is a bucket load of rambling. proceed if interested. reader must read only if he/she have no self preservation of your sanity. read on crazy minds! 

To my regular readers (if there are any) you must be waiting for my customary post about the pre-rain , during rain and post- rains posts. Well, as the arrival of rains this time was late i was “khafa” (upset, zindagi serial effects) with the rain gods and posted it well into the monsoon. Apart from having self doubts about my writing abilities , all thanks to GRE super human vocabs. I mean c'mon who uses words that take half a day to pronounce and longer time to spell and said once in every solstice . Keeping my whinnying aside i lunge into the topic of monsoon.

This time i am not going to romanticize monsoon. I am going to talk about a nuisance that gets introduced like the help at your place who turns up when you are going to have a party at your place when your parents are away (not from experience ;) ) :drum rolls please: MOSQUITOES!! Yes. Those tiny buzzing irritating to death mosquitoes. Monsoon famously brings machar and makhis. The former being also the buzzing irritating to death traits but their job profile includes sucking blood and transferring dangerous diseases like malaria, dengue. While the more squashy and blotted looking counterpart the “makhis” love to spread the ill health of diarrhoea and other stomach cleansing diseases.

I am going to restrict my say to “makhis” only, in other words flies. Makhis sound way cooler and i am an ultra cool person, makhi it is. Apart from spreading disease it loves to entertain itself by buzzing around you for no apparent purpose.  You could spend a whole day running around the house with a newspaper roll trying to swat into cutlet or with chopsticks (over-inspired ninja movies), unless its a lazy fat makhi or may be oldage it refuses to die.   

If “makhis” would have brains they would strive for world domination! With their numbers and killer instincts of that of spreading disease and annoying effect. People would either poop to death or suicide out of the the annoyance of makhis. If there was a similar experiment as that shown in the movie “deep blue sea” or something like that ,where they inject the sharks with brain matter and make them super intelligent (why on earth you want super intelligent sharks?!weren't they dangerous enough!). If such a thing was done i am sure the world would get a “makhi hitler” who wouldn’t fail in world domination this time.

As gre has taught me to support your statement with a good example. The movie called makhi which was a remake of a south movie (surprise surprise) where the hero turns into a fly and seeks revenge. Is a pure example of what they are actually capable of. And their nuisance value is very well illustrated in the episode “the fly” in”breaking bad” (googly eyed thinking of breaking bad) .

Rethink of the power of makhis as you are chasing it with a newspaper roll, will you be spared if they revolt against humanity?! A paisa for your thoughts. (going desi as independence day nears)

watch out at 2:32

he doesnt need to know..

He doesn't need to know

Of the times spent at the quarry

He doesn't need to know

Where his mom went as he tarried

He doesn't need to know

What cost him those boots

He doesn't need to know

What happened to his sisters two front tooths

                              He doesn't need to know

                         Where went his father's ticking watch

                               He doesn't need to know

                          That dinner had caused him the absence of the dogs barking match

                                He doesn't need to know

                              Why his father came black, everytime he stepped out

                                   He doesn't need to know

                             Why his sister complained of rough hands with a pout

                                     He doesn't need to know

                                       Of the leaky roof that bothers father during monsoon
He doesn't need to know

That rain fall inside is just not natural

He doesn't need to know

That there are more toys than a cycle tyre

He doesn't need to know

Life ends in a burning pyre

He doesn't need to know

Of fathers coughing worsen day by day

He doesn't need to know

That life is as frail as pots of clay

He doesn't need to know

That soon he would be crowned the man of the house

And then,

he will have to know it all

smile :)

Smile me through a path that's harsh
A Lil by Lil as we march
Through these treacherous road we walk
Waterfalls on one and and cliffs as white as chalk
But you make me smile on every single step
As we bound over the bridges and leap
Soon the road stretches too far
May be into a mad kings lair
But its an adventure i would like to have for a while
Cause you always make me smile.

turmoils

there is only so much a man can take
but i give up, for once i wished i didn't have watsapp.. for once in the many times i wish i was in an era of letters. where people took no liberties of staying mad forever, or where there was no space left for misunderstandings, or where feelings meant much more to dash them away.. i wish..
why my post.. i have had a tough day and a night emotionally taxing.. trying to save friendships , apologizing to people.. why i do? i don't know.. cause i care? i guess.. i do.. no matter how much i try..
does the time spent hold no value? does caring for some people whom you hold dear, not enough?
i am emotionally exhausted and spent.
seas are never smooth.. but when they are rough.. often the ship wrecks. the ship, the crew, the timbers all washed away swept to be never seen or found.. perhaps a few debris sweep up the beach.. painfully reminding of the once majestic ship with a crew of many...
friendships are similar... built with love and care the timbers.. the memories the crew.. whole together the ship.. once shattered is never placed back, never glued back.. and someday when you are sitting on a beach and sudden memory flashes by.. and you are painfully reminded of a once friendship, of a bond that once was so dear.
and when there are three ships sinking together at the same time.. its hard.. its more like a 100 typhoons raging over, howling but you are there trying to stire clear of it.. tugging the ropes hard.. holding on to the ships.. but will the hold stay? shall you see a new sun?

just coffee (2) :the road

My note: i have been meaning to write many short stories with the title just coffee.. so here is the second installment to it.. hope you like it (cross my fingers)

The only constant in my life seems to be coffee. My life till now has been like the rickety shack that is on the main road, surrounded by the buzz and hum of the on going traffic but still afar from all the hustle bustle, within it’s own private bubble. And such is a place i frequent to. I am a working girl in a different city almost every year  i have to shift my base. Do i mind? Not yet.. am i a loner? Not by choice! And my coffee?? Such a loyal friend.

I frequent a place just like the shack i mentioned. Middle of nowhere and everywhere. Its location is very convenient for me. Somewhere on way to work. Not the CCDsa nd Baristas, but a typical Indian Nescafe doodh marke with diabetic inducing levels of sugar. It went light on the pocket and its location, perfect. Like every tea and paan shop located in India this was run by a man being the namesakes of half of India , Ramu kaka. I was his favourite customer. Needless to say i was the only women visiting his shack on a regular basis and taking compous amount of coffee. Ramu kaka’s place was frequented by all types of people.. the “shehar wales” (city people) dropped in for some cigarettes, the drivers for paans, the passengers for chai, the kids for wafers and chocolate, the teenage girls for juice and the rich brats for mountain dews. You named it and ramu kaka had everything one needs when it comes to road trips. During the shaddi season you would see truck, bus, tempo loads of people in eye numbing glittering attires climbing down these oven hot boxes and pilled over ramu kaka. You could see whole of india just sitting in this blow away shack.

Ramu kaka is like all other ramu kakas in the world. Tanned dark with sun, a small man with flashing white smile and eyes that crinkle in the corners. He had a missing a lower tooth and if ever asked how he would fall into a different stories each time.I never knew which one was true or if all together had bits of truth in it. But he was a man of the world. Happy and content at this moment with a wife and 3 children all married. He had a lame dog too whom he had named Hitler.When i asked him does he know who he is. He simply shrugged and said someone told him it’s a german shepherd. And all he knew about Germany was Hitler. Yes, you might think that’s a bit estranged piece of information for someone named ramu kaka. But that is ramu kaka to you, a man full of tit bits.

I was an esteemed customer for ramu kaka. He had a special rickety stool set aside for me which seemed to come from baba adam's era. my orders were always taken first, tho i rarely had to even ask him. I was his only customer drinking coffee and he showed me off to any new regulars who would drop by. I loved sitting there in dirt and filth of the main road and watching cars pass by. It was like spa to me after a tiring day at office. With the warm cup cuddled in my hand all the memories floating up from it with every wiff of the sweet smell. Sometimes when it was a slow day ramu kaka would sit and ask me all sorts of questions. At times i had a book in my hand and he would want to know the whole story! He was inquisitive by nature.He was a father in a far off distant land to me.

My parents were dead against about my stopovers a ramukaka’s chai shop. The news they hear all day long about all kinds of heinous crimes. They are not to blame. Inspite all that i never left going to the place. Another regular was shakti ji.  Given to his herculean name he was nothing but it’s opposite. A man in his 50s with scanty grey hair, a hooked nose and bulging eyes. In the first look you would think he is the middleman of some smugglers ring passing up messages inconspicuously. But in reality he was a band member in barati.. Those who play loud instrumental versions of bollywood nos like munni badnam hui, sheela ki jawani (my knowledge lacks on tacky nos)  for the dulhe raja (groom) barat to dance to the doom of two people. He was a man with worries, a man you often see buying desi daru from a wine shop. Thankfully shaktiji had enough shakti to have come out of the alcoholic red zone. A man who played the trumpet and made music for happy people to become even more happier, himself suffered from deficiency of happiness. He had two daughters. One married and the other yet to marry. His fingers had rhuetism so he couldn’t play much of the trumpet without killing himself with pain. But yet he did and everyday he came back to ramu kaka a confider and friend ,his guardian angel. To his chai. Ramu kaka sympathised with him and nodded sadly at his worries.. about the dowries one must pay.about the inevitable evil that is society. But as he said  wisely“hum toh aam adami hai, humra kaam hai jhelna” ( we are the common man, its our duty to suffer)

As the days went by, shakti ji chattered about the upcoming marriage. Even after the mega shock he was about to receive financially for the marriage there was sunrays of happiness and hopefulness for his daughter. This cheered him up considerably and i wondered how easy is the heart. All was settled and set to go for the big wedding of shaktiji’s daughter and he politely invited me to the wedding, which flattered me to some extent. But there was one element missing in the marriage. It was the band baja. The “ladki wale” (bride’s party) are suppose to arrange for the band. And it so happened that shaktiji had no money left. The irony. No band for the daughter of the band wala. He was in pieces. The ijjat and even the marriage was at stake. Yes, they are so fragile. Confessing about his new found troubles to ramu kaka. Kaka silently contemplatively gave shakti ji some chai. His eyes watching me , watching him. Like he was looking for some approval. Then he suddenly leaves having a quick chat with his wife, who lived just behind the shack. He returned with some money apparently sufficient for the band and forced it into shakti ji’s hands. A reluctant shakti ji  accepted the money and promised to return it full aware of the uncertainty of the promise and the depth of gratitude.

Sadly, i had to shift my camp again and would not be able to make it to the wedding at the cost of humanity. I bid my farewell to my dear ramu kaka and left. A few months later i was passing by ramu kakas chai shop and thought of having that old sweet coffee once again and of course to chat up with ramu kaka. On my arrival i saw her wife recognise me and immediately make me a cup of coffee and clean up my stool. Even hitler came wagging his tail and sat by my feet looking longingly at the biscuits. I glanced questioningly at ramu kakas wife whom i always addressed as ramu kaki. She gave me a pained expression with watery eyes and i knew. Ramu kaka had caught the dengue. There was no money left after he offered his help to shakti ji and no hospital would take him. He was too proud to ask back for his money.

 He was now just a spec in the memories buried somewhere dusty in the minds of the many travellers he served. The chai shop witnessing an act of benevolence and generosity , of humanity against the stringent rules of society. In its own private bubble. Going unnoticed by the speeding cars. As the whole india past by it few knew the stories that makes human humane. Of so many stories of bravery we read this one finds it’s own niche. his fervent soul now inscrutable matter on earth.  My dear friend ramu kaka.. “aam admi such as you are never aam” ...

long time no see??

Been almost a 3 month long absence from the last post which was a bit on the edge post. i didn't write a New Years post, which had become ritualistic. well, few reasons why someone takes a sabbatical from writing
1. writer's limbo
2. too lazy
3. too busy
4. many distractions (movies, serials, books, studies..huh? who said studies?! )
5. no sleep deprivation
6. too many incidents in lesser time span
and many more!
in my case it was all of the above! and i might add another one, i was keen on seeing the no. of pageveiws sans any posting... i was quite pleased with the no. i must say... tho i did worry that many were coming from some porn sites, and i am pretty much sure this blog hasn't any racy stuff.. but as the world rule goes by " numbers are all that matters" (giving maths the god like status!) explaining my abstinence (tho i really don't owe anyone any explanations) and the not-thought-before-experiment, i shall continue to devour your young fresh minds! *signs off with evil laugh*

knocks of the wind

A torrential symphony
As the wind drums on the door
And the rains humms their choruses on the panes
Playing the songs of the ages...
Come and listen hammers the wind
For a music to the ears of those who appreciate
Knock knock on the kids door
I apologise, to frighten you...
But listen sweet child, its the song of the ages..
Pray dont shiver..
Knockety knock, on the rickety door of mine...
Annoyed me, wraps the blanket closer and increasing the volume of the music I prefer...
Alas the optimistic fool doesn't give up!
The next door it knocks finds an old couple dead to the pounding, sleeping eyes wide open..
Still the optimistic fool of a wind keeps knocking.. Persistant in its own foolish way...


PS: I hate cold feet. my usual super power ability to sleep seems to have betrayed me tonight.. the noise outside reminds me of the C grade horror movie background sound.. the loud patters , thunder storm and the door almost flying of it's hinges like a caged hungry dog eyeing a plump rabbit hopping around.. and everything ends up to the above bad poetry which lacks rhyme and rhythm and anything resembling close to a poetry.. my apologies.. and yes, i do hate cold feet!

.

the muscle man

he was so swollen with muscles and with such huge biceps that he couldn't lift his arm to feed himself.. and died.

note: put on your glares cause my sunniness will blind you! :] 

a mistake is not a mistake unless it is repeated..

the warning!

In the marshes they all sing

Came a man of horses with wings

Telling lores of the long gone mist

Of terrors and horrors that had ceased to exsist

Reminiscent of an age fought and gone

In the marshes they all sing

Came a man of horses with wings

Went he to the king of happy times

With news not sweet , but bitter crimes

Laughed his majesty with belly all swollen

 wine and bread was his token

In the marshes they all sing

Came a man of horses with wings

Lords and ladies ,he bowed to them

Hoped his warnings were taken then.

But rich laughed with shivering legs

Knew if he was right they all be dead

Still no heed anyone paid

Thought the happy times would never fade

Disappeared he into the unknown

Forgotten he was before the dawn

It was the morning of 5^th of summer

Land and sky mirrored each other

Both red

Both a blazed

Ashes of grey was all that was left

Of the king and his horses

Of gardens and it’s roses

In the marshes they all sing

Came a man of horses with wings

Smirked he from above

But brains is what you were void of

A test you failed miserably

Some lessons you learned, probably!

In the marshes they all sing

Came a man of horses with wings!

the 100.

uhmm,  that should be about 100 ! 

PAAAMP! whistles and streamers.. oh! confetti.. claps all around! the ONE HUNDREDTH post.. 

Yeah, making a bit fuss over the 100^th post. It doesn't seem that long that i had hesitantly made my 1^st ever blog which remains to be the only one. And a century of rambles do seem to me like an achievement cause i never knew i had so much to talk about or rather i could truly right two sentences without drifting off midway .. as i have always said i lack the basic step wise logical and algorithmic writing thought process.. (errkk! Nerd alert!)

I pat myself on the back for coming this long way with much discretion. And i also have to thank a someone (wink wink) cause of whom i started populating the already overpopulated zone of amateur writing.

I would have liked to have the 100^th post to be of a masterpiece of my literary skills, but owing to the no room of letting off steam i fear my masterpiece would have been rather soggy.. (kudos to you if all that made any sense)

And this all sounded like an award speech.. just add a squeaky little voice while reading and that would be like blowing life,almost like i have been talking to you. (tho, i don’t have a squeaky voice! I think not! :/ )

Peace!( for all the strikes and protests going on, we do need some) 

Little Missings..

The little missings

The countless pens and erasers

The one piece of the jigsaw you never find

The safety pins and clips ,

Reported gone in times most needed

Keys, which go Houdini each time you get late!

Ever wondered as to what happened to them?

May be swirling in some lost and found abyss

To be found someday, by their rightful owners

Or perhaps they were found and owned by someone-else

And if ever were they given a voice...

My! The tales they would have had to tell!

The little missings

Important yet ignored

Sure does makes life hell !

madness.. it is!

road trip wrappers...

Music ,wind, sun and please! not to forget my wayfarer glasses. It looked like a scene right out of ZNMD! Keeeeerrkk.. just, instead of the sky blue Buick, picture a truck in dashing orange. And oh! Say tata to the smooth roads of Spain and helloooo to the Indian grameen roads giving the pot-hole ridden Mumbai roads a tough competition.

It’s peculiarly common as to how these road trips come out to be the little lessons in life to which you look back and smile and say "Manh! Those were the days!" . My road trip taught me a few.

1. Always carry more jeans. (avoids the shocked expression of ma saying “did you sleep on mud?!”)

2. DO NOT drink outside water. Never. period.

3. Take the liberty of packing a first aid kit for a regiment.(cause most of the time you turn out to be travelling  with a group of ignorant hypocrites who are ninnies when it comes to health)

4. Check under the beds before leaving/checking out (it just might turn out that you left your charger there, doesn’t really matter how it landed there)

5. Always and always eat icecream whenever you are shivering to the bones!

6. Kick box anyone who is around.. (well ..cause it’s fun!)

7. Not to sit beside your NSP in an overnight bus. (cause if you droll while you sleep, chances with him/her will be down the drain forever!  )

8. Always have a dabba (dabba- old fashioned sans any fancy OS mobs) android people are cry babies when it comes to charging!

9. DO NOT carry camera, cause believe it or not there would be atleast one more guy who would be clicking same pics as you. So why do all the work?

10. This is one of the biggest lessons I have learnt.

 Acceptance.

 Acceptance of defeat. Of a better luck next time. That trip back to the hotel from the track was hardest most silent one, one could have ever sat through in a otherwise noisy group of 26. The moment of acceptance, that we had been disqualified. Of all those long nights in sparks and dust and grease and nuts equaling to nothing.

All stories aren’t fairy tales.. i guess.. but in the end there are always lessons to be learnt and memories to be wrapped for some far away meeting many years from now, when you sit with a glass, preferably bottles of drinks with the old college buddies and unwrap those discoloured boxes from the attic, to see that the flowers you had packed were still fresh and still full of tingly pollen to make you laugh over all of it. 

Cheers to a dusty luck and a clean tomorrow! Clink !