My journey, or rather one of them, started in 1992 and ended in 2012.
It seems like I never ever worked at the Embassy of Peru for twenty years. How easy it has been to forget and leave it all behind!!!!
When I was teetering on whether or not to do it, I was in a short state of turmoil but when I decided, I just went ahead without thinking more and now it's already over three years since I've left.
Today a reminded popped up in my online calendar that said "Peru Embassy Anniversary". I don't even remember putting that detail in my calendar. I must have done it since it came up together with my other appointments for the day.
Nice moment that brought when I look back at the friends I made and still contact via email or whatsapp.
Looking back, it had molded me for the greater good. I learnt so many things during those years and some of those lessons hold me in good stead today. How awesome is that!!!
There was an old lady who lived in a room, she had no children so she didn't know what to do.
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I've been thinking and thinking and looking for answers but there are none except for my own voice in my head, which just creates and recreates questions, one after the other.
What did you think about? How much pain did you feel? Was it emotional, psychological or physical pain? Could it have been a combination of all three? Who did you think about? Why did you not want help? When did you realise that it was bad? Did you lose the will to live? Was this what you wanted?
I want so much to understand the reasons for the way you lived your life. More than this, I want to know what were your thoughts in the last 48 hours. I want to turn back the clock to ask you about it. I want to go into that zone where you let your guard down and tell me the things that you wouldn't tell anybody else. I want to know so many things. I want to know too many things.
Knowing that I will never have the answers doesn't ease the ache. Knowledge is not power.
This holiday has been good and now I decide to let it go.
The sun, the sand, the sea and the voices in my head say it's time and I should let it go. I'm going to let it go.
When people die, we make up stories in our head so that we can feel better. They can no longer argue or deny or accept what we say about them. They are unable to speak out even if they disagree.
Many prefer to believe that they go to heaven. I've been told that everyone I've known, who has died, has gone to heaven. No one will say otherwise. It becomes sacrilegious to even speak ill of them. My aunt was not a saint nor was she a sinner. Judgement is not for me or anyone to make. I guess it is part of the healing process. We want to feel good so we only hold on to the nicer aspects because it seems to make no sense to think of the uglier things. We change our perception of them only because it makes it easier on us.
I can only go by on what I felt or more importantly how she made me feel. I always felt loved.
When I left Malaysia, many people said they would miss me. However, she was the only one who never failed to say so. She never ever stopped telling me that she felt sad I was so far away, that she felt a void and missed me terribly but also always assuring me that she was happy for me. She didn't ever hide the fact that she missed me. This always left me with mixed feelings.
When she died, I didn't just lose someone I loved. I lost someone who loved me deeply and who wasn't afraid or ashamed to tell me.
May her soul rest in peace forever more. I still love you, I feel a void now, I miss you and I hope you are happy.
“Only in quiet waters do things mirror themselves undistorted. Only in a quiet mind is adequate perception of the world.”
Those in the northern hemisphere experienced some of the coldest days of their lives because of the polar vortex. Many have expressed, non-stop, how they were looking forward to Spring. Of course, those of us living in the tropics can only sympathise with mild amusement. And on the subject of Spring, I started spring-cleaning when I was back in Kuala Lumpur for five days last month and took the opportunity to go through my cupboard. Always at the back of my mind was a remote chance that I would re-enter the working world and that I should keep my office wardrobe. However, Stephen (God bless his heart) will not hear of it. Now that I have embraced this retirement totally, I decided that I really have to rid myself of the clothes that I hadn't worn in two years. The image made me smile and even if I will not be wearing any of those clothes again, giving them away was not so easy. BUT common sense got the better of me and I managed to clear my cupboard of maybe another thirty pieces. It's amazing how many pieces I have amassed during my working years.
I like to believe that I have given away at least half of what was in my wardrobe. I seem to be giving, giving, giving and yet there is still so much to sort through.
If I promise to clear at least twenty each time I return to KL, I shall have taken a huge step in overcoming this sentimental relationship with my clothes.
It's never been my dream to have a big house. Maybe when I was very young, I might have thought of being a princess and living in a palace. However, as I became older, I found that it is not the size of the home that matters. I'm gladthere are other like-minded people and I am not alone.
Until today, I still frown when people say I live in a 2-room apartment in Singapore. For so long, I misunderstood what it actually meant until I found out that the living room was counted as a room!!!!
In KL, we have 3 bedrooms and it has never occurred to me to say that we have a 4-room apartment because it would give the impression that there are 4 bedrooms! All these years when I have told Singaporeans that my KL place has 3 rooms, they must have thought I meant 2 bedrooms and 1 living room. For the life of me I cannot understand why Singapore has perpetuated this strange concept. Wouldn't it be just as simple not to count the living room? Maybe someone can educate me on the background of this idea!!!
How do they do this in other countries? Do they say 4 rooms when they really mean 3 bedrooms and 1 living room?
I love my Singapore home even if it has only one bedroom. Everything is compact and within easy reach. Cleaning is super easy and it's a no-fuss kind of place.
I'm not, or rather, Stephen and I are not the types where you must not do anything else but eat on the dining table. We do whatever we want because for us, it's a multipurpose area. It works as our desk and also as a computer table, sometimes!
I know that some people would be horrified and think that this mishmash kind of living will seem the end of a civilised life. *guffaws*
Isn't life easier when you think outside the box?
Isn't life easier when you live happy?
I like to think that it is.
Yes, we have a small home but it's where love grows best!
The world is reeling from the deaths of the handsome Paul Walker and, of course, the anti-apartheid icon, Nelson Mandela.
People die all the time but some deaths affect us more than others. If we knew the person, then we share the grief with all the other loved ones. If we knew of the person, then we share the loss of that life. Some have an untimely death while others die in their old age. Some who are seemingly healthy also slip away unexpectedly.
My Aunt Lucy passed away recently. She was unwell for a long time and her death was not really a shock as she was in and out of the hospital. Yet hearing about her death was like a blunt force trauma to my heart. I had not expected to be so sad when I heard the news.
It is never easy to think of a life that is over. It's even harder looking back at the numerous chances not taken to show that I loved and cared for her. She was a pillar of strength for me during a very difficult phase in my life. It is obvious that she will be one of those who did something for me that I cannot ever repay.
Many times I think that eulogies are prepared with selective memories. People choose to remember the good things because it's the right thing to do. Often I would be shocked by my own thoughts when they clash with what I hear. I know, I know. It's the way it should be and we celebrate the goodness and all that. However I believe that keeping it real would be a far better legacy to the deceased.
In the case of Aunt Lucy, I sat listening to everything her daughter said and I was conscious that I didn't have any secret thoughts of disagreement at all. No exaggeration and no embellishment made it the best eulogy I have ever heard.
Looking back at all that travelling to and fro, of more than 1200 km, over four days, I have no regret. It was a trip worth making.
I didn't really say goodbye to Aunt Lucy. For me, she lives on in her five children. They are blessed to have had such a wonderful mom.
When I moved to Singapore last year in March, I wondered if I would ever feel at home here. These thoughts were guarded in my heart and not spoken out loud. I never gave them much place in my head although they came to disturb me every now and again.
People always asked if I love it here and my answer is always, "yes, I love it very much". I don't know if I wanted to convince them or myself.
Being a believer in the power of the spoken word, I always say positive things for the benefit of others as well as for myself.
I don't know exactly when I began to feel that Singapore felt like home to me. Maybe it was when I returned to KL and saw all the familiar roads, faces and places and yet I was a little detached from it all. There probably wasn't any particular moment when Singapore began to feel like home. It just happened bit by bit and then a simple remark made it all come together. Let me explain that.
A few days ago, Stephen went to get curry laksa from the hawker centre for me. The lady who took his order was going to put a dollop of sambal into the packet when Stephen motioned her not to. She looked at him and said, "If this is for your wife, she likes it".
When he came home and told me about it, I was amused. She was right because I do like that extra kick to the laksa.
It's like in the sitcom "Cheers" where everybody knows your name.
In my case, it's not my name but it dawned on me that when the neighbourhood hawker lady knows how I take my curry laksa, Singapore is home. I gave up a lot when I left Malaysia to be with Stephen but what I have here with him is invaluable.
When we hear of someone who has died in what we believe is before his time, we tend to stop and take stock of our own life.
When I did that, I reached a conclusion that my life is beautiful. In any case, I've had enough people saying this to me so I already know it is true.
It is a perfect life. Perfect from my point of view and the only view that should matter.
I was discussing life, death and the hereafter, with a dear friend via emails, and I wrote"It seemed to me that most people are afraid to say that their life is perfect already. They are worried that if they say it is perfect then it cannot get better. It can be perfect at that particular point in time."
I added, "I like to think that my life is perfect today. So is yours! I see you so happy and contented and I think that's perfect. If it doesn't get better, it's already perfect. If it gets better, then, by golly, it's better than perfect. A win-win situation, I think."
Someone's early demise shouldn't be the moment when we stop to think about our lives although I suppose it is a natural thing to do. However, I am now going to make a conscious effort to count my blessings each day and not wait for a catalyst.
I realise I have reached a certain point in my life where there is no longer any reason to prove I am happy. I just am and it's a beautiful life.
With the elections just around the corner, it just occurred to me that people won't like me if I don't act a certain way.
Will this upset me? Maybe. Or maybe not!
Many of my family members and friends don't agree with what I perceive and that's okay. I'm happy to say what I need to, if they ask. I'm also happy not to say anything, if they aren't interested.
The thing is that we shouldn't be with people who pressure us to do anything that we are not comfortable doing. We should do what we believe is right and everyone else should just accept it.
I was in my mid-30s. Not a great time to start learning a language but circumstances of my new job plus a bit of pushing and shoving from my boss, Jorge Bayona (God bless his heart) made me join a Spanish Language class.
It wasn't in the best period of my life and I went under duress.
It began in a beginner's two-hour class held twice or was it thrice weekly. I can't remember now. The classes weren't something I looked forward to because it was in the evenings and after a full day of work. The teacher, Agustin Gutierrez was from Mexico. I think he's a very good teacher. I didn't know then but looking back, I realise that he was very good at his job.
The first lesson began without me. I don't know how I missed it but I did. Anyway, I attended my first class and was unpleasantly surprised to find that the teacher spoke completely in Spanish!
Fortunately, they hadn't done much in the first lesson which probably would have been introductions and getting to know each other.
I was really unhappy but my pride set in and I decided to make it work.
The lessons were not very easy and the only reason I was able to follow everything was because earlier, I had taken a very short conversational Spanish class. That didn't amount to anything and at the end, I was unable to follow or make any conversations with the Spanish-speaking community.
However, memory is such that when it's in your head, it lays dormant just like riding a bicycle. Slowly, the words began to have meaning and it became easier.
At that time, everything was difficult for me because I didn't have the right attitude about it. I was attending because I had to and not because I wanted to.
In hindsight, learning Spanish turned out to be such a great distraction during a period of discontent. Later, I would realise and appreciate the value of communicating in another language.
Anyway, that's another story.
The reason for this post is to highlight the steps that I took to master a foreign language.
1. I paid attention in class and did my homework. I'm a good student. There's no denying this. Okay, I'll admit that I begged my colleague on several occasions to help me with homework. Manuel if you ever read this, I want to say "Gracias" again. You were my "ángel disfrazado".
2. I read Selecciones which is the Spanish version of Reader's Digest. This was the hardest thing to do. I didn't enjoy it and just browsed through the titles and jokes. Maybe today I would find it interesting but not when I was a beginner.
3. I made efforts to follow conversations whenever possible. This was one of the main reasons why learning the language was important. My colleagues could no longer speak freely when I was around. Hah! 4. I joined the 'Red Latina" which is a Spanish chat forum. I found out that I could spell better than many there. The people on the other side of the globe didn't believe I was a Malaysian and chatting with them in their own language. I discovered words that you don't learn in a formal classroom. These little inroads boosted my confidence. 5. I listened to songs in Spanish. This was the easiest! It was strange because, at the beginning, it was like listening to a Chinese or Hindustani song. You like the music but don't understand anything. So I did the next best thing, I played the cassettes over and over again and wrote out the lyrics. Those were the days when 'Google' didn't exist yet! As Spanish was so alien to me, I couldn't figure out many of the phrases. For this, I have to say that my boss, would happily check if the words I wrote, made sense. He'd correct them and occasionally, he would sit with me and listen to whatever song I chose, and help me get the phrases that I couldn't catch.
Once I had the lyrics, I'd play that song on my way to work and on my way home. I'd sing in the car and it made me feel like I was already a native Spanish speaker/singer! BUT singing a song and speaking are worlds apart because if you strike up a conversation with anybody, they'll expect you to respond and what was I going to do then? Break into a song!!!!
It was disheartening. After three hundred hours of lessons, I was still unable to say that I could speak the language. But I persisted on my own and kept up with the songs of Ricardo Montaner, Laura Fygi, Chabuca Granda, Eva Ayllon, Camilo Sesto, Luis Miguel, Laura Pausini, of course Ricardo Arjona and many others whose names I don't remember.
Months after I finished the three levels of Spanish, JB gave me a cassette of Arjona songs. Specifically he asked me to listen to "El Taxista". He said, "listen and see if you can catch the story". AND just like that, I did! I understood what it was about. I had to check some words on my own but I knew the story in the song.
That's what learning a language is all about. You have to immerse yourself in it. You have to read, write, listen and love it.
If you're struggling today with a new language, I have this to say, "one day, without even realising, you'll be thinking in that language and that's the day you'll know you've mastered it."
When I had to take my final test for the Advanced Level, my boss told me to spend the whole afternoon to do my revision. "No more office work today", he said. I had the best marks in the class.
I have to put on record that it was due to JB's encouragement and support that I was able to master the language. When he left Malaysia after seven years, I was not only able to speak and write, I was able to perform my duties more efficiently.
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Some people come into your life and they change you forever.
This post is dedicated to you, Jorge Bayona for a life-changing distraction.
And I haven't forgotten the song you said was for me even before I turned 40! I chanced upon it on youtube and it brought back all these memories that I have put down in this post.
Does it really? When I saw this, I wondered and it got me thinking. Are we where we are now because of what we did before? Or is it pre-destined and everything that happens was supposed to happen.
I'm always curious about people who began from humble beginnings and then end up somewhere else so totally opposite of where they came from or vice versa.
Often when I am travelling, I look at faces of people and I wonder where they were born and what they do for a living. It's just something I did to pass my time. When I see a family in a car or another face in a bus that has pulled alongside our bus or even when I'm in a plane, when people hardly look at each other, I browse the sea of faces, as they walk pass and I wonder. When I used to travel every other weekend, the long journey often gave me plenty of time to think and now that I am retired, I've taken that habit to a whole new dimension which brings me to this tale.
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There were three women. Each of them grew up in what was known as notorious areas. About 50 years ago, Tiong Nam (Chow Kit), Petaling Street (Chinatown) and Masjid India (Little India) were already places that people didn't hang around, alone, at night. It was not considered safe. Yet three women grew up in those areas respectively and came out of it unscathed by the 'dangers (drugs, gambling, prostitution etc)' that lurked behind every corner. When people mention about the lily that grows out of mud and not being contaminated, I always think of the three women!
What did they do in order to end up in the same office when they were in their 40s? What brought them, at about the same time of their lives, together? Three friends with three years age difference separating the youngest, the middle one and the eldest.
Another co-incidence was that all three had two sons. Their birthdays fell in March, April and May. Physically, all three were different. Emotionally, they bonded like blood sisters.
The strange thing is that if anybody looked at them and wondered where they had come from, no one would have guessed right.
All three, in my opinion, were intelligent, loving and giving. Despite the different exposure and upbringing, the three got on very well with each other. Yes, there were some moments when any two of the three didn't see eye to eye but that rarely lasted long.
The friendship thrived during those years and eventually each went their separate ways.
For me, it is an amazing tale of three friends with dissimilar backgrounds, that destiny brought together. Three different women who became friends. Good friends, I should add.
Life is truly interesting and amazing. Unplanned and unexpected but altogether making for an incredible tale. For me, this was one of them.
Anyone who has worked steadily at any job will understand what a dilemma it was, for me, to decide whether or not to retire early.
For me, it's almost a surprise to find that a year has passed by. Three hundred and sixty-five days have come and gone! Just like that!!!!
I never would have pictured my life to be the way it is now. So much has changed. I feel a tremendous surge of joy when I realise that I didn't lose anything, in terms of happiness!
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After nearly a year, I returned to the Embassy. I had expected to visit my ex-colleagues earlier than this but somehow didn't get to doing it until just this week. The deputy Chief of Mission asked me the most common question about my life, "Do you like Singapore?". I replied, "I don't like it, I love it".
I had expected to miss my salary but I didn't. Really, it is never about the dollars and cents at all. It's the people that I have missed. I didn't know how much until I was back there with them. The familiar faces of Sumathi, Loga, Anita, Ivy and, of course, Carlos! We were a great team. The feeling of being among people who know me and who I know have missed me, genuinely, make me feel so rich.
My office at the Embassy of Peru
I looked at my old office and there is no twinge of regret. I only miss the camaraderie that was shared during the coffee breaks and lunch time. Oh, the things we did in the office when no one was around! Those are the moments I remember most. They make me smile.
My 20 years at the Embassy taught me so many things about everything. I don't think I would be who I am today if not for all the experiences and the people who worked with me. I am thankful and grateful to all of them.
I still feel a strong sense of loyalty to the country and to the friends I've made along the way. I will always have a soft spot for Peru. 20 of my 50 odd years were spent serving the country: that is 2/5 of my life.
In my own mind, I like to think that I have showcased the best of Malaysia to the diplomats. I hope that when they remember Malaysia, they think of me. Hearing everyone say that they have missed me makes me happy yet sad. I wish I could be there for them; with them. In any case, I am just a phone call or email away.
I was told that I am a legend in the Embassy. I am sure that is stretching the truth a bit but it did make me feel on top of the world.
Since I arrived to Singapore almost a year ago, I have found myself in the unique position of feeling at home but in unfamiliar territory. Other than the area where I live in, all other places have made me feel like a tourist. Too often, I couldn't find my bearing and didn't know which way to go. I wandered around but didn't get lost. I enjoyed it. Getting lost, I mean.
However, I am slowly beginning to recognise more landmarks and roads. Even now, it's still like being in a foreign land. Well, I am in a foreign land. Having lived all of my life in Kuala Lumpur where I know most of the roads and lanes, it has been a strange feeling to not know where I am and whether I should go left or right. While it was disconcerting at the beginning, I have learnt to embrace this uncertainty.
There is something to be said about being anonymous in a crowd. I know many like to be known and enjoy being famous but going around incognito gives one a feeling of being 'free'. I don't really know how to explain this and maybe there isn't any need to.
Anyway, the one thing that I've appreciated about Singapore is the excellent transport service. With a little map, one can move around without any difficulty.
I live almost in the middle of all the MRT lines, between the Braddell (Red Line) and Caldecott (Yellow Line) Stations. So I have the option to pick whichever will afford me the shortest route.
Stephen has taught me that getting from one destination to another (via one MRT line) is not necessarily the fastest route. Now I know that it may be faster to go from point A to point B and then to point C. Travel time can be cut in half. Well, he's a seasoned traveller both here and overseas. Me? I've lived almost all my life in one city and I had a car for the last 30 years! I am learning, though.
The advantage of living in the heart of Singapore is the convenience of getting anywhere so easily. Technically, I live in Toa Payoh but physically, I am nearer to the Braddell station. This only means that I am just four stations (8 minutes) away from the hustle and bustle of the famous Orchard Road. If I ever miss the noise and crowd, I can get my fix easily. Actually I don't even have to travel so far because just one station (2 minutes) away and I can get everything I want or need at Toa Payoh.
Pic from Wikipedia (Red area shows Toa Payoh)
I didn't realise that I have enjoyed wandering around. When I first arrived to Singapore, I put it on my bucket list that I would visit each station, at least once, and go do a walkabout. I believe that there are over a hundred stations (MRT and LRT). I haven't yet been to all of them. There is just too much to do and see. It's still on my list of things to finish in 2013.
When I meet someone for the first time, it's always the same reactions I get when I say that I have just retired. It's either "Why?" or "So lucky".
I know that I have not yet reached the age of 55, which is the age that society accepts as the right age for retirement (in Malaysia, at least). This makes people curious.
For those who asked, "Why?", it seems strange that I would give up working when I could still earn money.
For those that said, "so lucky", it is probably a wishful projection of what they want.
In either instance, I don't know how best to respond. Usually I smile and nod because I don't know the reasons behind their reaction.
If I had not been working for the last 30 years, would people still consider it strange that I have retired (early).
What if I had never ever worked before?
What if I was always a housewife or homemaker?
Would they still have that incredulous look on their faces?
Somehow I get the feeling that if one had been working and one gives it up, something is wrong. But if one hadn't been working at all then it's all right.
There's some serious stereotyping going on here, methinks.
Why is there this unwritten rule that we have to work until the very last employable date of our life or until we drop dead?
Why is it that if you've never worked at all, no one thinks twice about you being a homemaker? But the moment you say that you chose to retire early, they either don't get it or they think you're lucky.
We all have different paths to take.
Where should I have gone? I've not thought about it.
I met up with two dear Malaysian friends who came for a visit. They are on a two-week driving holiday, in a car that is forty-seven years old.
VOLVO 122
The coastal drive will take them along the Peninsular starting out from Petaling Jaya, Selangor. At the end of the holiday, they would have covered Port Dickson, Kukup, Tg. Piai, Singapore (where I am), Desaru, Cherating, Kuala Terengganu, Kota Bharu, Pulau Banding, Songkhla, Hatyai, Kangar, Penang, Lumut, Teluk Intan and then back home. I understand that it's one of the things on their bucket list.
Both of them are now retired, have known each other for about 40 years and will be celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary this August.
Two days ago, we spent a few hours together , squeezing in the latest updates about our families. The good thing about old friends is that it never gets old. The friendship stays where it was and we just pick up from there.
Anyway, being with them reminded me of how wonderful it can be to live a simple and ordinary life, if you are with the right person.
Theirs is a story of an extraordinary love. Their lives are a beacon of hope, for the people who are newly married, that love can last.
I can't help but to wonder, if only for a moment, about how my life veered off to another path.
They asked me if I was happy. I didn't hesitate. Yes, I am deliriously happy. It's not something I've thought about but their question made me realise that I am. I know it made them happy to hear my reply.
People always wait until it's too late to say what they feel. I've made an effort never to be that way. I always tell people when I love them.
Thank you, David and Shashi Netto. Thank you for the love through the years. Thank you for everything. I love both of you very much.
Shopping used to be fun. I would buy anything that caught my fancy. I thought that when I retired and had more time plus being in Singapore, I could spend hours doing what used to give me endless pleasure.
This did not happen. My life changed and I no longer felt the need to go on a shopping spree.
Stephen used to shake his head at the amount of clothes I had. He said that I could wear a different outfit over a year without having to repeat a look. Well, yes, it was true.
One cupboard of 84 blouses
At the end of my working era, I believe I had over 200 blouses, 8 black pairs of pants and almost all the basic colours of slacks. Add to this, my skirts (long and short), plus the jackets and formal attire. Since I stopped work, I've given away some of my clothes. Maybe I have about 50 per cent now of what I used to have.
I also certainly amassed a huge collection of costume and real jewellery. These were bought over the years or gifts I received. At that time, it was never enough and whenever there was a 'good' buy, I'd buy it. I went through phases of pearls, crosses, Peruvian jewellery, precious and semi-precious stones.
A small portion of my stuff
Now, despite giving away quite a bit, I'm still left with so much and yet I only use the same favourites over and over again.
This is precisely why the picture on FB struck a chord in me. It captured how I feel today. All the things I bought only brought me temporary happiness. I used to think that real happiness came from being able to buy anything you see. I was wrong.
The real happiness comes from time spent with family and friends and doing what I love.
These days I'm doing what I love and it is a good feeling to have worked hard all those years, to have gone through all that and to be where and who I am now.
Yes, it is as simple as that, if you are looking for real happiness.
It's hard to remember this when everyone gets caught up in the Christmas rush. It's hard not feeling swept away by it all.
Last night, around midnight, I was in an aircraft between Malaysia and Singapore. It was a beautiful night and all the lights made a spectacular panorama of colours. I still get excited to see the beauty of it all.
With Stephen beside me, holding my hand, it seemed like a near perfect moment, up in the sky, feeling safe and loved.
Then we landed and headed for food. As we sat down with our meal at about 1.00 am in Changi Airport, talking and going over the highlights of our short break in Kuala Lumpur, I realised that these are the little things that I enjoy.
That quiet moment, when most of Singapore is probably asleep, and we are together and looking out for each other.
The Christmas month is here. I used to dread this month. No, not because Christmas was around the corner but because the moment December came by, I would have to start with the Christmas decorations for our Malaysian home. It was always a tiring chore because I'd work all day and then come home to have a quick dinner and then start with the second round of work. Albeit a more pleasant one than office work, but back-breaking, all the same. Then when the weekend rolled by, I'd be on it full-steam to make good use of the time. It usually took me a good two-weeks to get everything out and up and then it would be just tweaking everything until the eve. Then I would be done! That was the old me!
The new me had the Singapore home all ready for Christmas before mid-November because my girls were coming for a visit. I wanted them to have the Christmas spirit. So I started early and I was given the 'stamp of approval' by my boss, Stephen.
Some neighbours dropped by and said that everything is lovely. I think Christmas makes everybody kinder. :)
It's the first time ever that I have been ready for Christmas so early. My brother would usually call me to tell me when his tree was up. My then colleague used to say that her tree and whole house was done by 1 November. I used to be so intimidated by them. Not anymore!
Hey, it's my first Christmas season without any other hassle. I'm loving it.
Who's doing the Malaysian home for Christmas? Well, somebody will do it. Pssssstt GG!!!!!!!! December is already here!!!!!!!!!!
