You would have thought that if a decent, law-abiding, god-scaring chap such as myself arrived home from college monstrosities, he would stay there awhile. Take a breather, or replenish his spirit and senses, so to say. But not quite.
I arrived last night, trudging in as the clock chimed 7:30 (and if it didnt chime, because it wasnt a 7 or an 8, it atleast slithered to the 7:30 spot), after a 4-hour long struggle with my non-cooperative intestines and raging ear-drums, on Flight S2-308. Entertainment onboard comprised Scott Adams' Way of The Weasel (most insightful), the first LOTR movie (which I couldnt much hear despite headphones, thanks to damn aircraft engines) and a most enthusiastic conversationalist in air-steward's clothing.
To the point. To the point. Plans for a relaxing first few days have been, it seems, quite confirmedly dashed off by a sinister, evil, almost machiavellian scheme of my parents to spirit me away to see Gangtok (and surrounding regions, no doubt). I say this because I love exotic and gorgeously scenic places. But I dont enjoy travelling upto them. And certainly not after an overnight bus journey and a flight (four freakin' hours) to enter the old home, in the first place! They say they wouldnt dream of holidaying without me and I ought to go with them, for when did we last have our own family vacation, haan? Understandable. I'm like that. Oh, and yeah, its been a while since our last holiday.
So off I go again. Flight leaves in about three hours. Will come back in 4 days to appropriately reminisce on the past semester, and discuss plans for this helluva long vacation (all suggestions most welcome). And, if I still feel keen on it after running through my ethereally-captured-in-time smirks and disinterested gazes into endless space, I'll show you some snaps from the mountain land.
Tra la, amigas. Sayonara, mon ami and all that.