Dhanno comes back home after a 8-hour day in school, lugging her 14 kilo bag in the afternoon sun. She is sweaty, hot, tired, cranky. She doesn’t take too kindly to my invitation to fool around a bit.
She looks at me, snuggled up in bed with a book in my hand, and says angrily, “I am tired. I’ve been working.”
I say, “I’ve been working too since you went to school.”
She raises an eyebrow.
“After you left, I spent about an hour and a half, taking care of the plants, shifting them around, and what-not.”
“That’s your hobby.”
“Then I worked on my script the entire morning.”
“Then I cooked some chicken for lunch.”
“You like doing that. It’s not like you have to do chemistry. Which is so-o-o boring.”
“I’m not asking you to study chemistry. I’m not asking you to go to school. In fact, I’ve been asking you to leave school for the last 5 years.”
She looks at me as if I am a hopeless case, and walks off. Nothing can convince her that what I do is work, unless I look more miserable about it.