I love Muffin.

These days, thanks to the holidays, I’ve been spending a lot of time at home – mainly procrastinating (on the paper I’m meant to write), keeping house, cooking – basically the stuff I’ve missed out on in previous months.

Being at home also means that I get to spend time with Muffin, my lovable attention-seeking dog. She’s a real people-dog and here she is sitting quietly by my foot, watching as I type away.

She’s an excellent companion; most of the time we both do our own thing but a couple of times a day she comes into the study to check on me. At best, she likes putting her paw on my knee to say hi. I find myself talking to her a lot. When I do leave the house to run errands, I actually tell her where I’m going and what time I’ll be back. If it’s a hot day I’ll even leave the fan on for her.

Ah. It’s a dog’s life.

Renovation

So besides obsessing about the fisheye and trying to push myself to work on projects (read: I procrastinate), my days have been also occupied with the house renovation, which is finally seeing its last few weeks of completion.

The renovation, which started in mid-April, has been a rollercoaster ride of ups and downs, particularly for my mother who oversees everything. From renovation permits to deciding on the colour of our walls, my mother has taken on the extraordinary feat of handling contractors, dramas and decisions.

It is a man’s world.

I do what I can to help. Having an interest in house renovations and having more time on my hands, I’ve slowly but surely taken on the role from confidante (during the early days of the renovation) to partner, whereby both Mum and I meet contractors, discuss designs, colours, layouts – you name it. While we’ve been very blessed to have had good men around us (in particular our carpenter, general contactor, window guy, grill man, alarm guy, garden man etc.), we’ve also had a fair share of nasty men who think we’re dumb fools who know nothing about plumbing and drainage, wooden flooring and skirting, and who have produced such atrocious work such that even a seemingly ‘dumb blonde’ would have noticed.

Over the months, almost on a daily basis, we have mulled over many important decisions and observed the work taking place in our home. It is tiring but we’re finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Worry and stress still dominates sometimes but at the very least I’ve learnt what it means to walk in faith, something I think even Mum didn’t realise she taught me all this time.

Lee Weng Fatt

Image source

The past week has been an extremely hectic one for me. Working for an organisation that comprises 3 (including myself) sure has it downside when it comes to an office set up. In short, my last week alone has been filled with nothing but furniture-moving, computer set ups, lock changes, getting the electrician in, getting the phones connected…all of which I have handled entirely by my exhausted self. I am relieved to say the move is slowly taking shape and my long weekend in Singapore this week will be much welcomed.

Today, after getting the telephone technician in to fix up our lines and extensions, Mum and I met for an almost-impromptu trip to our favourite art gallery in PJ. Mum, herself stressed and tired by various dramatic events in work and family, was thrilled to get away for that few hours.

We had a fabulous time at the gallery. We teased each other (in our usual so-not mother-daughter way). We laughed. We asked all sorts of questions about various works. We completely baffled and amused the gallery manager there. But the best part: We made a purchase for Dad’s 50th. We chose a piece from my favourite Malaysian artist, Lee Weng Fatt.

Even better, we got to meet Weng Fatt, who happened to be there touching up some of his paintings! I found him to be most humble and warm. While trying to pick my jaw off the ground (and resisting asking for an autograph/taking his picture), Weng Fatt happily exclaimed, “Hey! I think I’ve met you before! You’re familiar!”, as he shook my hand.

I still have no recollection of our previous encounter, but it sure made my day.

I fucking survived!

I fucking survived! I fucking survived!

There were plenty dramas as expected. Moving drama, house drama, cleanliness drama, dog drama, fucking shithead-brother drama, grandma drama, unexpected visitor drama…

Have I bored everyone yet?

Anyway, to quell my extreme exasperation and exhaustion, I have been writing regularly to my sister in Melbourne because god only knows how those e mails fucking saved my life over the week.

Mooove

Background: We’re moving to a friend’s place as our home will be renovated [more on that later]. Mum and I have been coordinating the logistics of the house move.

Scenario: SMS conversation with Mum.

**********

Ma, what is Audrey’s address? I need it so I can settle the phone lines and Astro.

I’ve misplaced it! I dunno where I’ll be staying! Call her at ******* and also ask for postcode. Say you can’t get me. Don’t say you hilang address because I malu. She gave me 2 times oredy.

This is your unlucky day. I’ve been looking for her address in my inbox in hope of finding it sitting somewhere. Cannot find. I’ll call her and say you misplaced address.

You tell and I’ll curse you to drink 10 bowls a day of your gunky Chinese medicine [long story, will elaborate later].

Right. Too bad. I’m going to tell Audrey you lost it anyway. Quite funny what.

Not funny when you’ve lost it 2 times within a week. I curse that Mr. Rat sleeps with you.

Is this your luck or what? Just tried calling, no reply.

You call her later. DON’T tell her I lost address!

MMMMMFFFFFFFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Miaooow! Scratch! Scratch!

You’re damn weird.

**********

Yes, my mother is damn weird.