I'm asking to be slapped. I know.

Did you think I'd let February slip by without writing another post? Huh? Huh? Two months already and this year is proving to be better than last. If I weren't feeling so euphoric this evening I'd let the hidden neurotic in me have a field day. Notice how masterful I am in suppressing the Hidden Neurotic. The Hidden Neurotic in me has a distinct personality - it's a man who wears glasses and a checked sweater. He also cuts his nails obsessively. Although he can't do much now but watch as the Hidden Grinmaniac runs amok. The Hidden Grinmaniac surfaces fairly often, but today has been a good drunk-while-sober day. Maybe I'll go eat Maggi after this.

How obnoxious I sound. I'm completely sober, I promise. It's just that I don't write much on bad days, at least not until they get to the point of being unbearable. Right now, though, I'm invincible. I'm Godzilla. The mater's out of town and I have been doing housewifey things with immense success. I am the epitome of poise and grace while doing aforementioned housewifey things. I still jump when the oven beeps, but at least I don't slip in the bathroom and strangle myself with laundry. Who's a social disaster now, eh?

Looks like I'm getting obnoxiouser. As if that were possible. Hmm. The Hidden Neurotic's looking perkier now. Maybe something bad will happen tomorrow after all? Maybe it will, but how bad can it get? If it comes to imminent doom I shall simply have to ask someone to marry me. I do this all the time. Before I sat for the Boards I went berserk and asked the world to marry me on the internet, in case I didn't have a glorious future and all that, and someone was stupid - sorry, brave, sorry, considerate- enough to offer to do it. Then I felt happy and sat for the exams and they went well. Then when I was worrying about not being able to get into college I asked the world to marry me again, and again someone obliged, and I'm in JU now. It's like a lucky charm because it's very comforting to know that people are willing to marry you inspite of you being an incompetent failure. And besides, now I know I can do housewifey things with panache, so yes, I'm back to being obnoxiously happy.

No really, I'm sober. It isn't often I feel happy without reason, which is a good state to be in because of some little fountain somewhere sending little spurts of happiness out into - you know what, I can't believe what I'm sounding like. No one's going to believe that I'm sitting here, bespectacled and in old jeans at nine-thirty in the night with a jug of water beside me, and feeling happy, so I'll stop. Someday when impending doom is around the corner and marriage seems as good an option as any to feel secure in, I'll resurface and ask you to marry me, and then you shall agree because you disbelieved me today. Till then I'll while my time away trying to throttle the Hidden Neurotic. It's not like I have bipolar disorder or anything, I just like being dramatic. Come on, you knew that.