THE ALARM GOES OFF at 5:30 AM. She’s already awake though - mid-life crises get you there. Husband grabs his pillow and storms out to the living room. Clearly annoyed by the morning ruckus. She feels guilty now. Could have been quieter. But then how would she proclaim self-righteousness? Finally gets why morning people are insufferably snooty. Superiority complex comes bundled with the early alarm.
The Supreme Court bathroom assault begins with phenyl. Someone's gone berserk with the cleaning supplies – SCBA really cares about this one. So much phenyl it feels like someone’s trying to decompose a body. An angry litigant perhaps - taking it out on the system - maybe because shoe hurling isn’t enough anymore.
Outside, warm-up stretches into eternity. Everyone's waiting for the judges, who are almost there – any moment now. She had to report at 6:20 AM sharp. They will show up soon. Something about George Orwell and Animal Farm. Less said the better. The instructor launches into Zumba. Same guy from Pinkathon. A battery of lawyers launching into pelvic thrusts in coordinated gear. Fun!
The breakfast spread in the manicured lawn looks enticing. Almost like an upper-middle-class wedding reception. She’s doing the mental math: how many kilometres earn a guilt-free plate of chhole bhatoore?
