Finally my bike is home after being through hell. It looks all shiny-shoo, it also feels good to touch. But the best part is that it actually moves now.
After refusing to budge an inch, I deposited my bike with the mechanic during these holidays. The holidays came as a curse as well as a blessing meaning I was stuck at home for a week while my bike got a makeover.
I was a model of laziness this week. I lolled around the bed all the days, watched movies all the nights and fell in love with Catch-22.
Curiously, on previous occasions when I had attempted to read the book, I couldn’t get past the first 4 chapters. And all the time not a word would penetrate my thick skull. Those occasions would amount to nearly 10-12 times. This time I was determined. I had to read it after being subjected to such rave reviews by an assorted number of friends and one going so far ahead as to even offering to narrate the story. (The friend did manage to tell me the plot and what exactly is Catch-22). The book didn’t appeal to me previously and I found it to be sitting on the pinnacle of ennui.
Now I find myself eating my words. The book is singularly the most brilliant book I’ve come across in a long time and I happily hooked. And I also wish I knew a real Yosserian. He’s cute.
The real Yosserian would detest the word cute.