Mr. Shilly Ash to the rescue!

5.30pm on a Sunday evening, Mr. and Ms. Shilly Ash stepped out of the house. What was supposed to be a mundane grocery buying trip, turned out to be quite an adventure for as soon as they left the building, they realized that they'd locked themselves out. Now normally Mr. Shilly Ash is very careful, to the point of being paranoid (for which he is also scorned at by Ms. Shilly Ash), of not locking the door till the key is in his hand. Guess that day was just an error of judgement.

Being locked out with all the spare keys located safely inside the house posed quite a predicament. They approached various avenues for help, none of which yielded any result. That's when Mr. Shilly Ash had a brainwave. He would climb into the balcony of the house (luckily the window had been left open) from the balcony above and then enter the house. Dangerous as it sounded, Ms. Shilly Ash agreed there was no other choice.

So they made their way to the house, and balcony, above. They surveyed the area and saw different things - he saw an easy jump, she saw a free fall. With great trepidation, she watched the mister lower himself. He somehow managed to find the right holds. She waited with bated breath, not letting the agony show when he disappeared from her vision, till the time his voice announced a safe landing.

While Mr. Shilly Ash got inside the house using the open window, she ran to give him a hero's welcome. He was her hero! who had saved the day and how! Planning the myriad different ways in which she would greet him, she saw the mister wearing a sheepish smile.

The key was hanging on the door.... outside!

Straight hair... at the beach ?

It's 11 at night, and we have to be up in less than 5 hours to catch a flight. We're off to the beach!

We're off to Goa for an all too brief, four day vacation. We had no plans, no agenda. Just laze, eat, and soak up the sun. Bookings have been made, swimsuits and sunscreen have been packed, cab has been called for, and we're all set.

Well, except for Ms. Shilly-ash, who chooses just that moment to... (hold breath)... straighten her hair. She spends nearly half of the 5 hours of sleep we've afforded ourselves, laboriously ironing her locks.

Alright, I'll let that pass. She does want to look her best for the beach, an acceptable wish.

But of course, in less than twelve hours, at 10:15 AM to be precise, we are playing in the water off Baga beach. And the salt water has reduced her diligently directed coiffure to a knotty mane.

Was it worth literally losing sleep over, I ask. "Well, at least it looked great on the flight.", she says.

I'm speechless.