When home becomes just a house
Home is not quite the sweet right now. It's not what it used to be-everyone's doing their own thing.
My room is in a complete mess, and that's because I'm not the only occupant-there are a couple of maggots living with me. It's so unnerving to come home to a heap of clothes on the bed, on the table, on the chair, on the floor. Dusts of powder on the dressing table and the floor beneath it.To make it even better, clothes in the cupboard are not folded and there are gumpalans of hair at every corner of the room and books on the bed and the floor. Does it sound like a shithole already? yeah, thats what it is.
I guess that's partly why I can't bear to be in the house. Nowadays, I come home just to shower and bed. Thanks to my clutter-free years in Penang, I absolutely hate unorganization with a passion.
I don't understand how my father can wet a rag and squeeze it, wipe the table, wash of the muck and leave that lump of wet cloth by the sink! Why can't he wash it properly, squeeze it dry and hang it on the window pane (which is just next to the sink) to dry? How hard is that? He thinks I'm mad to get down on all fours to scrub the toilet once a week- his idea of keeping the bathroom clean is to pour some detergent on the floor everyday and spray it of with the hose! Honestly, who's the silly one?
I live with a bunch of clowns!My dad is unbelieveably calculative (I'm talking in terms of newspapers and Nescafe, not land ownership or mortgages) and he absolutely CANNOT admit that he is wrong. God!
Anyway, I think I'm getting subtle hints to pack up and move out-get married/ get my own place/go study...I dont know. I don't feel at home anyway, everything and everyone is so wooden (its literally true) so maybe I will...once I save enough or once I find someone I can drag down the alter.Ha ha.
3/4 of me hopes that it'd be soon. real soon.
My room is in a complete mess, and that's because I'm not the only occupant-there are a couple of maggots living with me. It's so unnerving to come home to a heap of clothes on the bed, on the table, on the chair, on the floor. Dusts of powder on the dressing table and the floor beneath it.To make it even better, clothes in the cupboard are not folded and there are gumpalans of hair at every corner of the room and books on the bed and the floor. Does it sound like a shithole already? yeah, thats what it is.
I guess that's partly why I can't bear to be in the house. Nowadays, I come home just to shower and bed. Thanks to my clutter-free years in Penang, I absolutely hate unorganization with a passion.
I don't understand how my father can wet a rag and squeeze it, wipe the table, wash of the muck and leave that lump of wet cloth by the sink! Why can't he wash it properly, squeeze it dry and hang it on the window pane (which is just next to the sink) to dry? How hard is that? He thinks I'm mad to get down on all fours to scrub the toilet once a week- his idea of keeping the bathroom clean is to pour some detergent on the floor everyday and spray it of with the hose! Honestly, who's the silly one?
I live with a bunch of clowns!My dad is unbelieveably calculative (I'm talking in terms of newspapers and Nescafe, not land ownership or mortgages) and he absolutely CANNOT admit that he is wrong. God!
Anyway, I think I'm getting subtle hints to pack up and move out-get married/ get my own place/go study...I dont know. I don't feel at home anyway, everything and everyone is so wooden (its literally true) so maybe I will...once I save enough or once I find someone I can drag down the alter.Ha ha.
3/4 of me hopes that it'd be soon. real soon.
4 Comments:
I understand how you feel. I did feel ike that when I was single ;P
Hope you get there soon :)
hey..you dropped by!
glad you dont think i'm half mad..phew!
gandhi:
"a man cried that he had no slippers to wear until he saw a man who had no feet 2 walk."
it is always hard to appreciate what we have, but it is harder to loose them.
ah, that must be the difference between Gandhi and me :)
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