Early in the morning as I am crossing the road between the two offices, I see a boy shitting just off the pavement, his mother waiting to clean him up. This is a family of four that lives on the pavement, the only one still doing so in the area. They are also probably the people responsible for that one changing shit-spot that needs to be do dodged every morning during my 100-yard walk between the two offices. Then, a couple of yards further down, someone spits a nice thick gob of red "shit" besides me.

Just one thought keeps haunting me for the next hour or so; if we can't stop shitting and spitting in public, what hope is there? Is this the place where I want my kids to grow up?

Then everything that can go wrong, does! The second patient comes late, screwing up the day's schedule. My junior colleague screws up with a couple of reports. The manager screws up with some account balances. My umbrella refuses to open. And it's a downward spiral from then on; now that I have started losing my temper, I shout at everyone and find faults with everybody; everyone is so incompetent and useless...

WFM calls up mid-morning saying that she is leaving work early and going home because both the kids have fever. They have also started coughing...which means we need to be extremely careful to make sure that Mann does not get another attack of asthmatic bronchitis, given his background of hyper-reactive airway disease.

The afternoon gets worse, as I discover even more screw-ups in the accounts. Everyone is now trying to stay out of my way. I feel a headache coming on; this always happens when I have lost complete control. I also start feeling a slight tightening of the chest.

I try and leave a little early, hoping that if I am away from this environment, things may get better. I realize as I get to the car park that the driver is not available and I will have to drive home myself. I curse. Given the mood I am in, I am sure I will get into a spat with someone while driving. In a way, it may not be a bad idea to let off some steam at some unknown person.

Luckily, probably due to the heavy rains, everyone is driving safely and slowly and no one gets in my way. The FM radio helps a little; Starship and someone decent unnamed rock-n-roll group. I get home without trouble. It is pouring; I get out safely dry just to find that the remote has stopped working and I have to go back to the car to lock it; the umbrella promptly overturns and I get wet.

I get home, just in time for the Brazil-Turkey start and Mann and Maya come running to embrace me, their faces filled with pure joy at seeing me home. Both are warm and slightly feverish and I hold them for some time. All the angst that has been seething inside me suddenly disappears.

Its still raining and we are homebound for today. I get on the treadmill and start watching the match; both Brazil and Turkey are playing excellent football. Since my cablewallah has stopped Ten Sports again, I am forced to watch the match on the Russian channel, PTP; which in a way is good. I put the TV volume on mute, turn up the volume on my Bose and listen to some vintage Billy Joel, singing along, my legs keeping pace with the beat of the music, until I am physically exhausted in less than half an hour.

I then sit with the twins, trying to get them interested in football, while WFM takes her turn on the treadmill. I tell Maya, "...red is Turkey and they are trying to make a goal". She starts chanting, "rotli ane gol" ("chapatti and jaggery", in Gujarati). I laugh for the first time today.

Suddenly I feel myself drained and despite everything, I actually fall asleep during the last ten minutes of the match. Which is probably a good thing, since I wake up refreshed enough to sit down and pen this. I was planning to write about football-related issues, but this one just wrote itself.

I wonder how much more I've added today to the building plaque in my coronaries.