In my current workplace, a residential university, I occupy a rather unnecessarily large floor area that is frankly, a trouble for me. The greatest and only con of living on your own is that you cannot blame others for not doing household chores! However, the place is also paying me unnecessarily large sums of money and in the shameful pretence of helping other less fortunates, I employed a man who will be addressed as Mr. M. or just M from now on. He is an able-bodied, healthy, pleasant, kind-hearted, gentleman capable of keeping the afterglow of sanity around me. In other words, he is the Zenith to my Nadir. Here, let me tell you about one of my personal grievances against the world. As I have been seeing time and again, every time I find a chance to just roll-down the abyss to quicken the end of my misery – some people, rather frustratingly, appear in my life and make sure that I do not even get to see the end of the cliff! Mr. M, for some irrational, sentimental reasons that I do not understand at all, decided to keep me alive – against my wish and despite my sincere, relentless efforts to convince him otherwise, of course.
Ignoring the veracity of, or the lack thereof, my opinion regarding his Saviour-syndrome, Mr. M. has only two flaws : (1) he misunderstands anything and everything I tell him and (2) he thinks he is the greatest, wisest sage of all time and even Christ needed to ask him before divulging his sermon!
Well, today I asked him to get me some breakfast item – fried in nature – from some street side vendors. He came back, glowing in satisfaction, empty handed to a hungry, anticipating man and proudly announced that he deemed that vendor is not clean enough and therefore I should not eat that and he is considering to call my mother to complain against me for not eating enough food!
Once upon a time, I suggested to him that we may use some cow manure as organic fertiliser for our rooftop garden. Next day, I had to stand in my terrace for a couple of hours to learn about the whys, whats, hows and why nots of “old” cow dung must be mixed in a certain proportion with “new” cow dung! Although I suspect all of it was equine-excrement, I didn’t dare to express that to him anymore. One cattle-crap at a time! A few weeks ago, I suggested, and I don’t know why, that spinach can be grown there. Last month, NASA has sent pictures of an over-above-overgrowth of spinach that can be seen from ISS, suspiciously centred on top of my terrace. I am awaiting a phone call from International Union of Mathematics now, asking whether I am planning to establish a new sets of Green’s theorems.
More of Mr. M will appear eventually, if I can survive him.
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