There's Nothing Called Leisure

You're yawning and stretching in office after a tedious day, and your phone rings. It's someone from a bank asking you to give him/her your "special" time so they can tell you about a loan, which you don't want. You politely refuse, and the caller, whom I suspect, is just as eager to please you further, would ask for a two-minute appointment for the following day. You say a firm 'no' and cut the call. You pick up your bag, and beep-beep it's your phone again, and it's SMS from the pizza guys telling you about a discount.

You think for a moment. How do I get rid of these fellas? You dial help number, and you lose the plot within seconds after the line is answered by a machine. You press the ones, and twos for the language, the criteria of complaint, and finally dial to speak to a 'customer care executive'. Once you reach this stage, you are asked details about your account, and your query is taken up later. Blah, blah.

You reach home, and remember how you had to drop by the ATM for cash, had to call up a friend, you had promised you'd speak to, and so on. Once you enter, your parents (if you're living with them), quiz you about your day, ask you questions, and the TV keeps your eyes hooked, and mind confused.

Bed time, you feel you could read a few pages of a novel, and just when you get up, you see the time, and it's past midnight. You've got office tomorrow, and an early shift.