There’s a really sweet lady who lives next door. Quite young too. She’s a property lawyer, if I recall correctly and rarely do I see her at home. (In fact, I rarely see her at all, because she travels pretty often.)
Needless to say, I was startled when mum opened the front door while we were on our way out a day ago … only to find the neighbour seated outside her unit, reading the newspapers.
I was startled for two reasons.
Reason number one being, the queerness of the situation. The last few times I’ve met her, she was usually in power suits, looking all poised as she makes her way to (or from) her car. Whereas here she is, slumped in front of her door, newspapers in hand with no power suit.
Apparently, one of her family members had taken her usual set of keys, leaving her with another incomplete set. As such, she was only able to unlock her main door but not her gate. The main door was slightly ajar, with Lady Gaga’s music emanating from within – possibly her only other source of entertainment apart from the newspapers she was reading.
Ah well, I am not in any position to laugh because likewise, I’ve been locked out of my home before … albeit five years ago. A much worse situation than her’s too, I imagine – because it was a cold day, I was running a high fever and still had to wait slightly more than an hour for someone to arrive home and let me into the damn house.
Reason number two as to why I was startled?
I was in midst of a very bad rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (The Indian Version) as I was making my way to the front door earlier and even while mum was opening the door. (For the record – if you hadn’t known already – I break into strange songs when I deem the coast clear … or so I thought.)
As such, my eyes grew wide and my voice trailed off when I spotted the neighbour. My rendition of the ridiculously bad song (yes, complete with my faux Indian accent) was most definitely audible from where she was.
Thankfully, she said nothing about the singing and simply greeted us in her usual cheerful manner. (Although she was looking at me a little strangely. Then again, it could also be just my imagination.)
Thankfully, I regained my composure fast enough to attempt inviting her into our home to wait – although methinks mum did most of the talking. (I was still … pretty speechless.)
It is going to be hard to ever behave normally again the next time I meet her.
When my aunt, uncle and younger cousin returned to Singapore (from Vancouver, where the younger cousin was furthering his studies) for a visit a couple of weeks back, they brought with them a horde of goodies.
Sweets, biscuits, jellybeans and whatnot.
I am not really a sweets person, though I rummaged through the bags and bags of goodies out of curiosity. The aunt said I could take anything I wanted since the goodies were for all of is, but I still felt a little bad taking too much.
I ended up nomming on a few jellybeans, and chanced upon this really delicious milk candy (in a red wrapper) which I really liked. I ended up pocketing five of them, much to the delight of the aunt who kept beckoning me to take more.
I refused, informing her that I would be content with just five. After all, she had a huge packet available and I can always help myself to more in the future if I still wanted ’em.
The five pieces of milk candy I’ve pocketed were gone in a matter of two days, and I’ve been having a mad craving for them ever since.
A couple of days ago, I popped by my grandmother’s place (where they were staying at during their visit here) and dug around for more milk candy. Grandma and mum tried to assist but because they weren’t very good with recognizing brands, they could only work with the miserable description of “the small candy with the red wrapper”.
We dug about in the refrigerator, in plastic bags and in the various jars stored all over the living room. The search proved futile.
My cousin walked out at that juncture and we pounced on him, asking where the candy was.
“The milk candy?” he grinned at me. “The one with the red wrapper?”
“YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” I screeched.
“Oh, no more!” says he.
I shot him a questioning look, and he rubbed his belly in response.
Damn. The younger cousin had wolfed down the entire supply of milk candy. The only milk candy I can now find in the house are traces of it in his pee or poop. Oh em gee.
Hmph. If I had known earlier, I should have just accepted my aunt’s invitation to ‘grab more’ and pocket at least half the original supply.
To Malaysia for three days with the extended family tomorrow. And yes, the glutton is going. But he’s a really lovable glutton, even though he polished off the entire milk candy supply.
So there. (;
One of my good friends – Regina (R) – was due for an operation on her knee early this morning.
It was slated to begin at eight. Yours’ truly and another good friend S made plans to be there at 7.30 a.m. so that we could at least spend some time with her before the operation. As such, we decided to leave our homes at 6.30 a.m. fer the long bus ride down.
Strangely, there wasn’t a peep from S despite 6.30 a.m. having come and gone. I rang her mobile phone, only to be greeted by a barely coherent voice and lots and lots of shuffling and mumbling.
Grarrr. That girl was still asleep!
After a round of “Whaaaaaat? You’re still sleeping?” and “Get outta’ bed now! We’re going to be late! Hut! Hut! Hut!” screeching from yours’ truly which (I think) managed to successfully drag S from the comfort of her bed, we finally managed to meet at 7.15 a.m.
We only managed to reach the hospital at 15 past eight, and the operation had already begun by then. The very last text message we received from R before her operation was “Am naked, going in (to the operating theatre) now.”
Yes, darling. Too much information. But I’m glad you still have your sense of humour despite us being late. Oops.
S and I ended up lurking around Singapore General Hospital with yours’ truly clutching a giant chipmunk plush (which we later named ‘Chippy’) for the next three hours or so, occasionally popping up to her ward hoping to see her there but only to face an empty bed.
S (right) and I fooling around in R’s (still empty) ward.
R was eventually wheeled outta’ the theatre at around 11ish.
The first thing she said to us when she saw us was “I’ve very very happy to see you all.” (In the midst of tearing.)
I am very happy to see you too, R dear. But the next time we meet, please let it not be in a hospital? (I can safely say that it brings back bad memories for both of us considering the health problems we’ve been plagued with for quite a while.)
S and I presented Chippy to her, who kept her company in bed fer the rest of the day.
Say hello to Chippy!
I ended up spending the entire duration of her hospital stay (1 day) with her, occasionally conking out at the side table next to her bed (and also on a spare bed at the physiotherapy department while she was having her physio) since I barely slept last night.
It was unfortunately, much to the chagrin of my mum who was insistent that I remain at home considering how the hospital was not the place for me to be due to my weak general health.
But you know what? Heck that. R is my friend. I love her, so I’d stay with her (and keep her happy) and no one can stop me. ;)
You – if you are reading this – get well soon. And remember to do your physiotherapy exercises three times a day mmkay?