Confessions of a Stressed Out Blogger

You know you are almost stretched to the maximum…

When, you didn’t realize you were wearing your scarf inside out (the lovely embroidery was hidden by the plain stitches), until one of the waiters of the mamak café sheepishly pointed that out while serving your roti telur and Nescafe breakfast.

When, you didn’t realize you had put on a mismatched pair of shoes when entering the bank until the teller smilingly pointed that out while transacting your ASB account.

When, you can’t remember the last time you shopped for groceries and prepared home-cooked meals or even hot tea/coffee until your sibling who came visiting pointed out that there’s nothing in your kitchen that seems edible.

When, you spent most of your evenings with Anuar Zain instead of the legally wedded spouse lately, where the former without fail would patiently wait, accompany, serenade and woo you with his melodious and romantic dos while you were finishing your work very late alone at night in the office.

When, you can’t differentiate whether it was just a dream, a nightmare or indeed a real instruction coming from your superiors to prepare a special report explaining to the newly appointed Group CEO why we indeed need to extravagantly spend millions on ‘the project’ while the rest of the population in the company have to tighten their belts cutting costs.

When, of all the years having the external auditors breathing on your neck in Dec/Mac, you finally (semi-consciously) had the guts to snap at them (Wahoo!), wrapped them around the fingers and pointed out what they themselves could do in trying to dig any little dirt or possible hidden skeletons in the closest in all the projects executed.

But life is good, I am not complaining. And Thank God I still can remember my wordpress.com password.

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Mak is now back to her usual chirpy self, Alhamdulillah! She had not been well since Eid Adha, down with severe lack of appetite due to intestine-related infection I strongly believe after taking some God-knows-what-it-is-and-where-it-originates-from medication sold by a lady who claimed it can cure Mak’s knee pain. When she told me over the phone that she was not well a few days before the Eid I was assuming it was one of those occasional fevers we normally have.

I was shocked to see her pale look when I reached home for the Eid Adha, and Bapak told me she had barely taken any solid food for the past 1 week. And after some interrogation they mentioned about taking some pills sold for RM25 per pack of 4 from a lady who had come knocking every doors in the kampong, selling numerous types of miracle medications, so the lady claimed. “…Kesian Mak, dia kata anak banyak, suaminya lari entah ke mana…” (Mak really pity her, she has many small kids and her husband had just abandoned her) And knowing Mak who always felt for those I-am-not-sure-whether-to-easily-believe stories, she had paid RM100 to get 4 packs, which according to Mak had somewhat cured her painful knee joint. The lady even had the cheek to leave her contact number in case there are queries about the pills, which of course went unanswered after our numerous attempts to track her down! Grr… I feel like strangling the person if I ever get hold of her!

Mak was sounding like begging me to extend my leaves at kampong which I told her I don’t think I can’t due to some work commitment the following week. She even wanted to follow me home which my sister objected. I am a workaholic who will not be home until 8:00 or 9:00pm, so how the heck am I gonna take care of Mak who was still not well if I brought her home with me? So my sister said! Luckily my sister was on a quite lengthy study leaves so Mak was well-taken care of, before my sister resumed back to her post-graduate classes.

I can see Mak holding back her tears when she was helping me packing and I think I did see a few drops finally released when I kissed her cheek before I drove back to KL. She had never been in such emotions, and I wondered whether it was because she was not well yet or whether it was because I had hinted to her that I was considering sailing to foreign shore for some greener posture. I even told her she and Bapak can always follow me and we can still happily cook and enjoy nasi lemak or ubi rebus while watching the snow falls. Sigh! Well, come to think about it I don’t think Mak can, she terribly misses her kebun even when she stays with me in KL for a week.

Don’t worry Mak, this stubborn daughter of yours is staying put, for now…

After doses of multi-vitamins, antibiotics, milk and half-boiled-eggs (which she doesn’t normally fancy and which we promised we will not force her to take them anymore once she is well) Mak sounds happy, she is back to her usual self, she has been cooking and eating her favourite dishes, she even lets Bapak goes for his regular 5-times a day trip to mosque (Bapak said Mak insisted that he prayed at home with her while she was sick).

And I am sure starting tomorrow I can already picture Mak tending her small garden back happily.

P/s: I took these photos from my sister’s fotopages. Hey, it’s my Mak’s garden, so technically the photos are mine too. Haha!