…friends and relatives now quake at the sight of me entering their homes. Anything remotely interesting and looking neglected in a corner will be zeroed in on with my laser vision.
“Listen, why is that statue all dusty and neglected? Is that a reproduction of a Chola bronze.”
Yes, yes, I am not the most polite of guests. I have often been known to straighten bedsheets in homes I visit. Which is not to say my own home is spotless. Far from it. But there is, what I call, an innate desire to neaten up constantly. Do you think I need to see a counsellor. Digressions apart. Back to the conversation.
“You dont like it?” This in the interrogative. With a twinkle coming into my eye. A twinkle, that the seasoned home owner being visited recognises. And my mother recognises best of all, her’s being the home most abused thus.
Homeowner/hostess: “Not really, it was a gift, but it doesnt really go with the rest of the room. You know, I am more the modern artefacts type, and dont really like this brass stuff.”
Inner jubilation happening within self brain.
Me: “You dont really want it then?”
Homeowner/Host, compelled to now offer kindly, since such unabashed hints have been thrown around: “Do you want it, take it if you want it.”
Me (rushing around looking for a plastic bag to bag my prize and calling up the driver to ferret said prize into the car, before homeowner changes mind): “Thanks dear, it will look just divine on my new wall shelves. ”
Did I mention I am shameless?
Disclaimer: I only do this with people who are incredibly close and will invite me over again perforce being relatives or school time friends. I am terribly shameless.