our side of the world is becoming less and less efficient, because we tolerate mediocrity. we accept the flaws in people, as we rightly should, but even lame excuses and feebly -covered laziness are part and parcel of the deal. it has grown to the point of being so in your face. yes, i am lazy, yes i am not willing to lift a single finger and get off my metaphorical big butt. soooo?

somewhere out there someone expects me to stay at home 24hours a day, and that person isn't even my hubs, until he sees fit to visit. he assumes, in that empty echoing brain of his, that i have nothing better to do than sit at home and lay my golden egg. without even asking what i do for a living, what type of lifestyle i live and what my schedules are like, he assumes that i will be at home, waiting, pining, anticipating his arrival.

gasp! who can be so righteous, so full of himself, you may like to know. a charity organisation, would you believe? i am trying to donate the sofa that we have grown to love and adore to someone else who may still be able to extract many more years of good use from it, seeing that it is still in very good condition. i vetted potential candidates as i didn't want it to be abused by those worms missing cardiac organs and conscience, who milks charitable intentions for their own personal profit. finding a respectable organisation, i emailed them to see if they can pick up the sofa. what is the condition of your sofa??? three question marks! she must be a very inquisitive person. i commiserate that many people genuinely mistake their organisation as dumping ground for whatever rubbish they have brewing at home, but that is another kind of worm which i do not want to go into. i send her photos of my sofa and she was apparently satisfied. can you please pick it up on 24th morning? ok, i will make the arrangement on 24th morning. please kindly read carefully. not 'i will arrange for the pick-up on 24th' but rather i will make the arrangement on that morning only. i know not how to answer to that. i emailed her again on 23rd morning; can you please ask them to come before 10.30am? she did not reply. apparently, charity is a very busy organisation.

i woke up bright and early today morning to give a last clean-up and a lingering look to the sofa. i have not heard from them since their last email agreeing to make arrangements. what arrangements exactly, i am apparently not authorised to know. it is top secret stuff, this sofa recycling business, lest people may come and kidnap the sofa.

i called her but no one answered. i tried again later. they will come before 12pm. can you let me know around what time? before 12pm. only now i understand that it takes rocket scientist discipline to come up with the scheduling of charitable pick-ups. i'm not asking for the timing right down to the seconds and milli-seconds. the approximate hour will do as i have to make a trip back home to be around for them to pick up. they will need detailed complicated calculations to come up with a decent answer, with theorems, algebraic equations and formulas. apparently, all people who will like to donate their stuffs to charity are people who have nothing better to do than shake legs at home.

so, i joined the group of well-meaning people out there and shook my legs until 11am, when i still haven't heard a peep from them. there goes my morning, but this is for a good cause, lady, so pipe down. by 11.20 i know they will not be turning up before 12, as the good lady says. i called again and asked for the lorry driver's contact. lorry drivers have a very esteemed position in the charitable organisation's framework, it would seem. as you have often heard, it's not what you know but whom you know. in this case, it is the lorry driver! so people out there, don't look down on the small people. *shaking index finger* so i called him. before 3pm, he says. why do i have the funny feeling i am being given the run around? sigh. before 3pm? yes, before 3pm.

so, now i have nothing to do but continue to shake legs until 3pm? at this rate, i will have very skinny and toned thighs. however, as i have grown rather attached to my elephant thighs, i threw in the towel. i actually went out and did some other productive stuffs. gasp! the nerve of me!! when they see fit to appear ala david copperfield style. i will then do my harry houdini too.

who knew charity can be so complicated?

coming down with a bug.

why is it coming down and not up? is it because you are feeling down when you are sick? or is it because you lie down when you are not feeling well? i want to be coming up with a flu! *sniff*

feeling sick sucks. people ask you where are you feeling unwell? duh, the whole body! from head to toe. sick and yet you have to conduct indepth analysis of your sickness. please do not bother me if you are not handing out t.l.c.'s.

*grumpy mode on*

the stupid alarm clock rang. i turned around, ready to hit the off button on my alarm, only to realise that it is coming from the other side of the bed. 6 o'clock. crazy as i sometimes am, i am still not deranged enough to set the alarm to ring whilst the sky is still dark out, the roads quiet and no soul is stirring. even the imaginary cock is fast asleep in his warm hut. however, someone in my household is a full-fledged member of an asylum and wakes up at the same time every day. the looney, however, is nowhere to be found. barely conscious, i rolled over and tap the source of my irritation.

i still have another half hour before i have to join the legion of semi-conscious zombies. come on, sleep! just when i was about to fall back to sleep, the darn alarm clock ring again. oh noooo!, i whined to myself. peering with slitty eyes, i realise that it is again not my clock. why are there so many alarms ringing in the dead of the night, and no one is waking up?!?! what's wrong with my room, the den of haunting alarms?! an unseen hand stirred and reached out to stop the alarm. no one woke up. sigh. one minute later, my own alarm rang. by then, i've already thrown in the white towel and was ready to wake up, lest another alarm ring in the cursed room.

there really is karma in this world, so people beware. whatever you do, or not do, will come around and haunt you. many eons ago, so long that it seems to be the dinosaur era, i was a pig. in that i really need my sleep. not that it did anything to help my case for beauty, but it was something that i needed a lot of nevertheless. one less hour of sleep, or even half an hour for that matter, and i will fall sick. sleep came before anything else.

apparently, i've over-used that quota for the rest of my life. i've dried up the number of hours i can laze in bed and vegetate until the sun shines down my bum, or the my mother breaks down the door. by contrast, i now have to wake up whilst the sun is still snoozing and whilst the cock is dreaming of sexy hens. no more excuses, sleeping beauty.

i am tired. i seem to be tired all the time, perhaps more from the routine that is life rather than physical strain. i have forgotten how to stop, to slow down and smell the flowers, so much so that i feel too guilty to indulge in such unproductive pleasures. a good book, a warm cup of tea, blues filing the air, my feet tucked under me whilst i snuggle into the folds of the oversized armchair. my soul yearns for the comfort. laughters, good company, a glass of red wine. all these are missing from my life for too long. i feel drained, dehydrated of the little pleasures in life.