It’s 9.30 at night and me and the better half are sitting across the table from each other. What do you expect – heaped plates of steaming food in front of us? Dream on! Here’s what we really do have on the dining table.
Two laptops, open, email connected, work in progress.
A pile of folded laundry consisting of 4 sets of twins’ underwear, one set of twins’ nightclothes, and four pairs of twins’ socks in various hues of blue, pink, magenta, purple, and yellow.
One unsharpened pencil.
The twins’ bath towels spread out to dry (because if I hang them out to dry it’s sure to rain: Murphy’s Law).
Three mobile phones (one of which is receiving mildly romantic messages from an unidentifiable sender!).
A cheque book.
A bank statement.
A paper notebook (as opposed to an electronic one) and a pen.
Two small boxes of kids’ games, topped by two takeaway cartons, washed and filled with marbles belonging to the said games.
And oh yes – a token representative of the original function of dining tables: an empty bowl and spoon used a few minutes ago for eating some curd.
And finally… a studious silence – broken only by the sporadic beeping of the mobile phone as further romantic messages arrive.