I roughly summarized my to-do list for the day;
1] Pack school bag [Remember to take lunch money!!!]
2] Brush Rufus
3] TAKE MEDICINES!!!!!!!!!! [DO NOT FORGET]
4] Stop making lists
My mind swirled as I shoved my worn-out text books into a rucksack with a Chanel-clad female printed on the front. I sighed dramatically before lugging my backpack to a wooden shelf with a heap of books already housed under its roof. With a groan, I remembered that that I had to design a poster for my school’s WORLD WAR pin-up board. Miss Henriques [History mistress] had instructed me to make a chart on Hitler and the pros and cons he created for us. [Boring or WHAT??]
I growled to myself as I gathered the material required to make the chart; highlighters, papers, markers, crayons. I had originally planned to on surfing Wikipedia for info, but the WiFi had been down since noon and NO WAY was dad driving me to the cyber cafe in this lashing rain. I was just racking my brains on how I was going to accomplish this next-to-impossible task when my mum swept in and plonked herself on the bed. Just like that, my question had been answered.
I tidied my room [mum’s a stickler for neatness and it is a known fact that the members of her “species” are more likely to agree with whatever you have to say in a clean environment] before sitting down next to her. ‘Mum,’ I began, trailing off. ‘Yes, Chels?’ Mum replied uncertainly [usually my requests are more on the nutty side -“Do pineapples have bad breath in the morning??”- so you can say that mum’s skepticism was justified]. I took a deep breath. ‘I need you to help me make a banner on Hitler and the effects of his destruction during the second world war because the internet’s not been working for ages, believe me, I’ve checked, and if I don’t submit this project tomorrow, my grades will slip from a tremendous A+ to a pitiable B,’ I rattled off, as fast as a metro. ‘What??’ Mum asked, a puzzled look on her face. ‘I only hear “Hitler’s Internet project,”‘ she admitted.
I repeated myself [in a jokingly exasperated voice]. this time making sure that mum heard more than three words. Mum smiled and requested me to come to her in half an hour. I nodded and bounced off the bed.
I spent the next thirty minutes chatting on Twitter with two of my best buddies; Sasha and Darcy. We typed away to glory and I was rudely jerked to a halt when the alarm went off, singing its shrill whistle. You know, the alarm I set for half an hour… [I take my appointments very seriously, however trivial they may seem] I quickly scrawled a goodbye and darted to the Blue Room [my place] with a pad in one hand and a pen in the other.
Mum was already resting her head on a cushion and leafing through a mag. I sprinted onto the bed and thrust my notebook in front of her, just to remind her about our session. She bobbed her head up and down before pushing herself upright and keeping the booklet she was filing through to the side while I popped open two cans of coke and placed it on the bedside table.
Mum and I spent the next hour talking, discussing facts and recalling the major historical event. I managed to get enough data [what can I say?? My mum’s a history whiz!] and dug out magazines for pictures. At the end of the day, I had a neatly written out fact file illustrated with glossy pictures and hand-drawn squiggles meant to resemble Mr. Adolf. I thanked mum before she slunk off to the kitchen to grade a quick bite and start preparing dinner.
I rolled up my project and started getting ready for bed. Soon enough, I was pulling on my striped pajamas after a steaming shower. ‘Chelsea!! Dinner’s almost ready!!’ Mum bellowed. I wrung out the water from my hair while screeching, ‘Coming Mum!!’ I pinned the towel onto a hook and nipped to the kitchenette. Mum was in there, chopping up a chunk of cheese. ‘Can I be of any assistance??’ I asked. ‘I was hoping you’d ask!’ Mum said, before adding, ‘Chels, could you fetch me that tray from over there??’ She requested, pointing to a platter that lay in the midst of a clutter of vessels. I obliged.
The rest of the evening passed in a flash. I aided mum in the kitchen and in half an hour, we had laid the table with fresh crockery and dishes of vegetarian entrees. This time around, mum thanked me for for my service and announced that she was going to send a quick email to Clara [my elder sister who’s away at college]. I flopped on my bed and began reading the Meg Cabot I had ordered from Broadway. In about fifteen minutes, I shut the paperback and started airing my frizzy locks with a hairdryer.
Just as I turned off the heat-machine, Rufus, my darling Spaniel, trotted into the room. I playfully tugged his ears and ruffled his inky fur. He swooshed his wet tongue all over me before dashing into his “house” and and fetching his “Boney” which was basically this rag doll I had bought him for his first birthday [though it kind of resembles a disfigured log of wood nowadays]. I grabbed Boney and we [Rufus and I] chased each other around the dining table. Before long, he caught up with me and we toppled on the floor. Just as I was about to bear-hug my dog, the front door burst open and my mum hurriedly entered.
She slammed the door shut and shook herself dry. Mum shoved her drenched rain-gear into the umbrella stand. ‘It’s raining cats and dogs out there,’ Mum grumbled. was just about to ask her what she was doing outside [and what happened to the email to Clara] when she said something that made my blood turn cold.
‘I am SO sorry I couldn’t help you with your Hitler assignment, sweetie, but I got called downtown on some business and was needed here urgently. I assumed I would only take a few minutes, but then it began pouring and… Oh honey!! You made dinner?? How sweet of you, Chels!!’