Dressed to kill

I read about under dressing for weddings, in this post. Well, I have done just the opposite. The other day, we had to see Dad off at the Hazrat Nizamuddin station, Delhi. We had ambitiously planned to attend a wedding reception after seeing off Dad. Not wanting to attract any attention at such a place as a railway station, I wore a black Mysore crepe with a quiet embroidered blouse, and took some light jewelry in the purse, so as to wear it later—and was ready when R came home. That in itself was a feat considering I had to get dinner ready for kids and f-i-l, and also pack some dinner for Dad.(Though the train was catered, you never can take a chance with diabetics.) Then R said the sari was not ok for a wedding reception. I was so thrilled to get an opinion that I changed into a brighter, grander Kanjeevaram sari, against my better judgment. Also changed the jewelry in the purse. Usually, when I ask for an opinion, all I get is”Hmm, OK!” And this time, I hadn’t even asked!
Old Murphy wrote all those laws expressly for me, of course. Because the day Dad was leaving was also the day half of Delhi decided to get married, it seems. So though we left in good time, we got held up in humungous jams. Tension was mounting. As it is, Dad belongs to the “reach-the-station-an-hour-before-departure” school of thought. We hadn’t known about the weddings, and another thing we didn’t factor in was that Dad would need a lot of time to make it to the platform, what with negotiating the overbridge and all. When we realized that, and got clear of the jams, R really stepped on it. So we managed to make it with a little time to spare, even.
You can imagine me running after the coolie in high heels and a Kanjeevaram! And clutching the purse for dear life! Ugh, the platform was dirty---I hiked up the sari to above the ankles, and bunched up the pallu too. The sari went to the drycleaners the next day! Anyway, after the train left, R didn’t feel up to going for the reception, neither did I. We headed back home. The traffic was even more on the return trip, and we wouldn’t have reached before 11pm, so we stopped en route and had a sandwich at Subway. I had got strange looks at the station, which were nothing compared to the polite glances which came my way at the restaurant---it had the multiplex crowd, and some people who seemed to have walked in for a snack, in track pants and baggy tees. Aaaargh! Never again!
Multitasking is all very well, and something to be proud of, but not to this extent!