Winter Vacation

Wrapped comfortably in my blanket, I sat there reading my novel. Ah, I so much loved reading the stories from old yellow pages. And occasionally I enjoyed smelling the pages. While the author talked about how Oliver got his name as Oliver Twist, my mind got distracted by this sudden urge to eat something. It was already 10 AM, although the thick fog outside that covered my view through the window in my room often put me in early morning mood. The warm feeling being inside the blanket was too comfortable for me to leave and arrange for breakfast for myself. So, I put my focus back on the novel. Finally at 12:10 PM, I got out of my blanket. The window was covered with few water droplets and the view through the glass pane was clear and beautiful. There was only a grey wall few meters beyond the window, but it looked beautiful nonetheless. I put the milk to boil and while I stood there, staring at the milk to show signs of heated agitation and bubble formation at the edges of the vessel, I thought of walking out to get some fresh air. As I opened the secondary door (the primary door is the wooden door, the secondary door is the door with sieve like metallic net that lets the air in but can keep people out), I felt the warm soft feeble sunrays touch my arm. The smell of an early winter afternoon greeted me as I walked out and picked up the newspaper at the gate. For a while I stood there looking around at other people's houses. It looked as if nobody stayed in them because the whole area felt so deserted. I started reading the newspaper with my back to the sunrays, and ah, it felt so good. As if the sunrays were fingers gently, softly massaging my back and it felt like eternal bliss. I stood there for some more time but felt stupid standing like that and reading newspaper. I also got bit tired so I walked back in, rather reluctantly and I felt as if I was entering a refrigerator when there's no electric supply.
What's that noise, I wondered. Its coming from the kitchen. OMG !! The milk !! I ran up to the kitchen, clutching the newspaper in my left hand. By the time I reached the kitchen, more than half of the milk had escaped the hot confines of the vessel, rest of it was also quite prepared to leave! I turned off the gas knob, and poured the remaining milk into a glass for my consumption. Suddenly I felt the craving for maggi. I put maggi with its masala in more than required quantity of boiling water, and left it to prepare itself for me. I took the warm milk in one hand, the newspaper in other, and sat on a chair with my back to the sun. With brief sips of hot milk, I read the editorial. This time I wasn't worried because the only way water escapes a boiling vessel is by evaporation and I had put plenty of water to keep me free for sometime to enjoy the sunshine and the morning news.