I don’t know how other women do it, but I just haven’t been able to domesticate Pi. Not even a bit. Puppydoglike is absolutely ruled out; he isn’t even close to transforming himself into a pet cobra (or any other ferocious animal if you have hyperactive imagination involving cobras). I take complete blame for this lack of management and delegation skills.
Just the other day, I asked him for help in the kitchen. ‘Could you please chop these onions?’ (Ok, it was more like- Get your sluggish mass here and cut the freaking onions if you have any devious intentions of eating what I cook today.)
He used the famous three strategies-
1. Eardrum failure to external noises other than TV.
2. After I managed to get his attention (which by itself was a horrendous feat worth a whole new post), sudden important work that needed his immediate attention came up and he promised to cut the onions as soon it was done.
3. He continued acting like the work was of never ending nature, hitting the keyboard at regular intervals and closing his eyes in deep meditation whenever I passed by.
An hour passed and the onions were the ones crying unable to bear the suspense of their demise anymore. To preserve my sanity and to prevent myself from smashing his computer in abject hunger, I decided that the onion cutting process would take only 2 minutes if I took the high road. Ambitious plans of disciplining him could wait for another day when I was less famished.
When I got back from work the next day, I saw him lying on the couch in the same position I had left him in the morning. I was certain that he had blinked once as the settled dust from his eyelids had fallen on to his cheeks. He mentioned something about an integral chapter of his PhD work that he intended to complete for the day.
‘Why don’t you do it now?’ I asked with growing concern.
‘I’m waiting for you to ask me to cut onions.’