Why I can't work from home

Weekend breakfast together after ages. At about one o'clock. Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf. Great cappuccino as usual. Omelette's that met K's approval. A conscientious cottage cheese and basil pesto sandwich to detox for me. A huge chocolate chip cookie. I meant to eat half and pack the other half. Didn't need to when we left. It was really good.

I came  home alone and switched on the keyboard. Banu, our maid and my sous chef,  was working in the kitchen, "X has passed away in our old building. He had cancer. We didn't get to see his face. He wanted it that way. You need to buy whole mustard and cumin seeds. Our stock is over. Dish wash soap. A mop. The phone at home isn't working. It makes a buzzzzz when I dial your number for instructions. But I got through to my grandson right now. I made fish on my accord yesterday since I couldn't reach you. The masala you left out was too much. I threw some of it. Achha, is your mother all right? You went to Calcutta suddenly. On work? OK. But is she fine? That madam who stayed with us gave me some money before she left and lot of chocolates. She said "it's for your kids". I said even my kids have kids. The madam giggled and exclaimed "you are a grandma!" I asked her to eat at home. She said she ate outside. I told her that I didn't get to cook for her. She said that she will come in January with her husband and kids and then eat with us. She wished me Eid Mubarak. I made tea for her a few times. OK, I am done, I will drop in the same time tomorrow, there are no vegetables at home. I am taking the box with the fish. Will get it back tomorrow..."

Before readers from abroad get all envious let me point out that Banu had bunked the last couple of weekends.
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