The Early Bird Doesn’t Always Catch the Right Worm. Ancient Wisdom, Modern Conclusion: Episode 4
Fast deliveries can fix everything. Except a misunderstanding.
Ancient Wisdom in question today- The Early Bird Catches the Worm.
“I am sorry for the last time,” I said, pinching my lips to show her the guilt I wasn’t feeling. “You don’t nag. It’s okay when you say, 'Do it. Do it. Do it,' especially when we are doing it.”
Neha creased her brows and stared at me as she remembered my honest words (Episode 2). She pointed her finger at me, as if warning me for the last time, just like a policeman who takes bribes from a repeated female traffic violator. (Sorry, I hate stereotypes.)
I nodded and motioned toward the bed.
She pinched her lips and shook her head. I smiled, nodded, and motioned at the bed again. She opened her eyes as if to scold me. I remembered what happened the last time (Spitting mishap-Episode 1).
“What’s wrong? Let's do it,” I smiled and winked.
“I am not in the mood,” Neha opened her phone and played with it.
“That is not even a real problem. I can fix it in minutes.”
Neha scrunched her brows. “What makes you think you can fix a woman's mood? That too in minutes?”
“Fast deliveries.” I pulled out my phone and ordered a quick solution to Neha’s problem and my desperation.
In exactly eight minutes, a delivery boy rang the bell and stood before us with a candle in his hands. He winked as he handed me the candle. I winked at him to get lost.
Neha glanced at me as I lit the candles around the room in exactly one and a half minutes.
“Pretty quick. Looks like you are in a rush,” Neha said, standing before me with her arms wrapped around her chest.
“The early bird catches the worm.” I winked and motioned toward the bed.
“Don’t tell me you learnt this from your nephew’s nursery book.”
“Well, I did. But this time it wasn’t forced on me. I believe in it completely.” I smiled, sat on the bed, and tapped on the place beside me.
Neha looked unimpressed. “You couldn’t fix my mood yet. There’s so much light in the room,” she said, motioning toward the window.
I checked the time on my watch. It was 1 p.m. Apart from the desperate and weird time to do it, I didn't know what was wrong with doing it in the light.
I shrugged. “What’s wrong with doing it in the light? We won’t get burned with this amount of sunlight.”
“I don’t know.” Neha shrugged, dismissing my reasoning. “I don’t enjoy looking at you while doing it.”
I pondered over her words for a minute, then looked at her. “Oh, so you feel ashamed?” I checked if she was blushing. She wasn’t. She shook her head without a tinge of shame.
“Encouraged to do more?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said bluntly. “Not encouraged at all. In fact, I feel like stopping immediately if I accidentally look at you while doing it.”
I creased my brows as anger rushed through my body. Not that I loved looking at her while in the act. In fact, I had to think of all the motivation I could, to finish the act. But coming from her made me question the purpose of my life.
“Maybe you should try to fix the light coming out of the window,” Neha suggested.
I smiled, dismissed the apprehension in my head, pulled out my phone, and ordered an item from the quick commerce app. Within another seven and a half minutes, the same delivery guy landed before us. He winked as he handed the item. I gritted my teeth and winked at him to get lost.
I opened the package and placed it over the window. Soon the curtain stopped most of the light coming into the room.
“It’s still not dark enough,” Neha said, peeking at the curtain while swirling noodles in her mouth. “I would still be able to see you while doing it. Also, what if the curtain falls from the rod?” She pointed at the rod where I had temporarily hung the curtain like bachelor boys drying their clothes.
I let out a huge sigh. “We will need just seven minutes to complete the task. Not more, I promise.” I remembered the record of the last time we did the thing.
“Fix it. The early bird needs to catch the bird before the bird sleeps,” Neha yawned.
I thought for some time about how to prevent the light from coming into the room. It took me longer to think than it took the delivery guy to arrive. I was impressed when the same delivery guy handed me a hammer. He winked, not knowing what I was up to.
I showed Neha the hammer and gestured for another five minutes. She nodded and immersed herself in the television.
I took the hammer and tried to fix the curtain on the rod. But then I realized I had forgotten something. The screwdriver. I needed to first open the screws before hammering them back. I felt like hammering my head instead. I looked at the clock. It was 2:30 p.m.
I pulled out my phone and ordered the item. The same delivery guy appeared in exactly eleven minutes.
“Why the hell are you late?” I asked as the delivery guy was about to wink.
“Sir, I delivered before the estimated time, which was thirteen minutes according to the app.”
“Really? You need thirteen minutes to deliver a silly screw?” I said, snatching the item. “Try to deliver the item in the blink of an eye.” I closed the door on his face, gestured Neha to wait another five minutes, and rushed to fix the curtain.
It took me about thirty minutes to unscrew, fix the curtain, and hammer the screws back again. I rushed to get Neha but found her sleeping. It was 3:30 p.m. I woke her up. She gestured for another five minutes. So I waited. She woke up thirty minutes later and entered the room I had lit and darkened.
“I don’t feel the vibe yet. Call me once you fix it,” she said, walking back to the living room to sleep.
“How?” I called back.
“Think of the last time,” she answered.
I thought about the last time we did it. It took me thirty minutes. I pulled out my phone and ordered every item I could recollect. In another nine and a half minutes, the delivery boy stood before me, panting.
“Sir, I reached your place before the estimated thirteen minutes!”
“Good. The early bird catches the worm-the customer, I mean,” I smiled and asked him to get lost.
I checked all the items I had ordered: a nice red sheet for the bed, some roses, marigold flowers, a lily-scented room freshener, wipes (she prefers them over a hand towel, stupid right?), a pizza (she needs it once we’re done), a cold drink (which she prefers hot), and some cleaning agents.
I arranged the items, played a sensuous playlist I found on Spotify, and invited Neha back into the room.
Neha was fully awake, reading a book while sipping tea. She checked her watch. “It’s 6 p.m. It took you so long. The early bird needs to be earlier than quick commerce companies,” she teased.
I looked at her with a flat gaze. I was tired and desperate for action. I motioned her into the room. She smiled and followed me. As she looked into the room, she seemed impressed. It had the curtains, the sheets, the music, the flowers — everything she had wanted. She smiled and gestured for me to sit beside her.
She leaned closer and whispered, “Are you sure you ordered everything? Hope you haven’t forgotten the most important thing like last time?”
I racked my brain, laughed internally, gestured to her to wait for five minutes, and ordered the two most important items. In another nine minutes and forty-seven seconds, the same delivery guy stood before me. He winked; I wanted to blind him for life but winked him away.
I rushed to the room, panting. Neha sat with one leg over the other.
“You got everything we need?” she asked.
I nodded, controlling my panting and anxiety.
“If you had a little patience, you could have saved a lot of money today. Look, it’s already dark outside,” she said, motioning to the window.
I looked outside. It was dark. The clock read 8 p.m. I gasped.
“Don’t worry. Let me make you feel good,” Neha said and started undressing herself. Slowly, she took off her top, then her jeans, and everything else. Then she lay on the bed, motioning me toward her.
I quickly threw off my clothes and lay beside her. I smiled as she opened her eyes.
“I can’t see you at all,” she said.
I looked at the candles. They were out of wax. I thought of ordering more but the thought of poking the delivery guy with the melted wax and my tiredness made me change my mind.
“I can switch on the lights if you want,” I said. “Maybe for a few minutes. I’ll switch it off after.”
“Okay,” she said.
I switched on the lamp beside the bed. As I turned, Neha squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could.
“What’s wrong? Did you see Dracula on my body?” I asked.
“No, but you are naked,” she yelled. “Why are you naked?”
“What?” I asked, my voice shaky.
“You are naked, you idiot! You are embarrassing me.”
“When did we do it with our clothes on?” I scratched my head.
“What?” she said. “When did you take your clothes off the last time?”
“I didn’t?” I scrunched my brows.
“No.” Neha covered herself with the sheet, knocking the flowers off the bed. “And why did you need flowers?”
I scratched my head again. I took the water bottle from the table and accidentally pushed the bag with the last items I ordered.
“What’s in the bag? Show me.”
I handed it to Neha.
“A condom? A gel?” Neha looked at me, shocked. “Why do you need a condom and a sex gel for waxing me?”
I rubbed my chest, confused. Her words made no sense until realization slowly dawned.
“Waxing?” I squeaked.
“Yeah! What else did you think?” Neha looked disgusted.
Memories flooded back. Last time, she wanted darkness, music, fresh sheets, and no eye contact while I waxed her. 'Do it' referred to waxing — legs, arms, feet. She never wanted flowers.
Gosh. I could have almost tricked her into sex if it weren’t for those stupid flowers.
“What were you thinking, Ken?” she asked, noticing the lust I tried to hide.
“Sex,” I admitted.
“Are you an idiot? Who does it during the day when the sunlight is trying to burn you from the window?” Neha said. “Some things in life are worth treasuring. Why rush it?”
I looked at the curtain, the flowers, the candles. Everything now stared back at me, mocking.
Neha got dressed, muttering curses under her breath.
At the door, she paused.
“You know what, Ken? The early lusty bird never catches the best worm. But a patient bird just might,” she smiled.
I pondered her words repeatedly, trying to comprehend them correctly — without haste.
Modern Conclusion:
Haste creates Waste — if not guilt, loss of money, and a blind delivery guy.
Ancient Wisdom, Modern Conclusions is a short series where I take age-old wisdom and apply it to adult life — with predictably terrible results. Think of it as life advice in reverse: I mess up, so you don’t have to (but also, you probably still will).
This is part of a hilariously bad decision-making series I call ‘Ancient Wisdom. Modern Conclusions.’