Day 1 @ hospital: Life is like a box of chocolates

I had been looking forward to this day. For a long time. It arrived and it was nothing like I had imagined. I had pictured myself sitting quietly listening to A.R. Rehman's songs and sipping tea while having romantic thoughts of coming home with a brand new family member.

But...

Forrest Gump, the movie		cheatandextra, a YouTube user
...says that life is like a box of chocolate. You never know what you gonna get.		...says that chocolates are like a box of life. You never get what you gonna know.

The two above are great philosophies to debate, and I could have easily spend the first half of Day 1 sipping tea, debating them.

It so happened that I happened to see something so awful that I and my current hormones (see nesting instincts) revolted. As I sat ready to sip tea to slip into oblivion, I saw something brown and round on the far end of the carpet in my living room.

www.singaporecarpetcleaning.blogspot.com

Imagine spending a life time working on a painting, day after day, and finishing. what satisfaction, right! Now imagine sitting with a cup of tea to take a heart warming look at the work of your lifetime, and noticing your dog ate the bottom right corner. Yes! Now you get it.

I had by now spent the better part of my youth cleaning this damn carpet, and I expected return. I was just not in a position to tolerate some round brown thing spoiling my masterpiece.
So, a crusade began. It went on for about four hours. I went for the master stroke - repainting my masterpiece, my work of life. I started from the doormat outside the apartment, and worked my way diligently like an artist through the living room, merging into the contours of my kitchen sink. On light feet, with expert strokes, like wind, I gushed ever so swiftly into the bedroom and became one with the carpet. I laid on it, submitted myself and let the subconscious take over. I was driven. I let my mind wander, and my hand follow through to the possible nooks and corners that might have remained untouched yet by the light of knowledge and the power of my vacuum pump.

I was not ready to stop till the universe changed, and it changed. My wife threatened me that if I did not stop the madness, she would empty the dustbin in the living room right away. Sadly, I had to give in. I stopped. By then, it was 4 pm and we were expected at the hospital by 5pm.

We left for the nice ride to the hospital which is 10 minutes away from our apartment building, and on our way, we listened to songs that we had planned. Here is a sample:

(...to be continued)