Questa è Enida

I still have a sekelumit of hope, honestly speaking. Hoping that Be would get better sooner than soon. That hopefully tomorrow morning I could bungkus his baju, Kitreena’s and mine in a bondong and berhangkut to Sharjah. (Bibik will have to bungkus hers in her own separate bondong tapi). But you know, when everything else sinks…hope floats. Hmmm to the mention of float, teringat pulak A&W Root Beer Float. But that’s another blog on itself.

I have been berangan to go shopping at IKEA Dubai. Gotta get the IKEA bathroom mats before Mom & Eric arrive. And would like to get Kitreena a magnetic board where she could stick her magnetic alphabets on. I would also like to get a bread-maker. (I thought for sure I saw some here in Muscat early this year. But last month when Be and I had a 72-hour almost non-stop hunt for a bread-maker, tak jumpa pulak. Or did I actually see them being plentiful in Malaysia ek?)

That 72 hours really tested my sheltered territory known as patience. I know and I believe that stupidity has no race, but this one particular type of people definitely fits into my Mom’s peribahasa: “Bodoh tak leh di ajor, pandai tak leh di ikut.” Hah, ni lah dia bangsa nya. We asked them if they had any bread-makers, or bread-making machines. Six out of seven stores, the salesmen nyer showed us either their sandwich-makers or toasters! Hoi, who interviewed you guys keje kedai barang letrik nih? Bread-makers are bread-makers, toasters are toasters. You dumb toilet brushes! (Read as: You dumb door knobs!)

It’s like asking for french baguette and you are given cream crakers (aka biskut mayat). Gilo po ko buto po ko tuli? Our last attempt that week was the National Panasonic Technic store down in Qurum because we knew Panasonic did produce some good models 4-5 years back. But why do you think we still have to gulp down those yeasty scorch-crumbed roti potong from Al Fair to this day? Sebab the Panasonic store in Qurum imports everything else BUT bread-makers. You better believe it ladies and gents. Because I have to live with the fact that this is happening to me.

My class.

Now that’s your call.

Hello! Anybody home?

Anyway, I am just a few minutes from stepping out the door here, to pick up Kitreena’s sofa covers. I got her this kiddy’s sofa from Carrefour a few months back at the price of 7.9 Rials (Omani Rials lah, takkan Kelantanese Rials plak kan? As in riyaa.) But I could not find ready-made extra covers anywhere. So I decided to get some tailor-made. Three altogether actually…one of them has Xmas pattern on. Chewah!

Fabric je dah 13.5 Rials…4.5 Rials for one set, upah tailor guess how much? 5 Rials EACH! Cekik darah kepala hotak dia lah. Nasib baik aku tak de sewing machine. All the machines I have are washing machine, dishwashing machine and coffee-making machine jeh. So, 15 Rials for the soon-to-be-if-not-already-a-millionaire tailor! One sofa cover totals up to 9.5 Rials. Opocot! More expensive than the sofa itself. Bibik did some mental calculation the other day and said to me, “Makanya itu sponge di dalam sofa itu gratis ya buk?”

“Sinning is the best part of repentance.”

~ Arabic Proverb.

I timed myself when I drove there yesterday. For an interview. Yeah! What do you know eh? I was called for an interview. Phew! Had to remind myself that it was just the anticipation of the interview that was nerve-wracking. Nothing else. Uh okay, perhaps the years under my belt too. The years of being idle. Bluntly speaking, I wasn’t sure if I could be sharp.

I was seven minutes early. And the interviewer – the Director of Studies, herself – was about ten minutes late. That didn’t matter because I gladly took that 17 minutes to look around, reading the updated brochures, skimming the message board, squeezing my tongue so as to produce enough air liur to wet my paper-dry throat. Man! Don’t I love interviews!

She finally came down and showed me around (already? Yeah!) And then we sat down to figure out what there was to barter-trade with one another. It didn’t take her too long before she asked me if I would like to start in five days! Yes, ladies and gentlemen…you’re not alone. I’m still trying to digest that myself here.

It has been a while. So it will be a while too, before I am fully switched into gear and up with the pace. But I guess teaching is like singing, or riding a bicycle. You just don’t forget. Once you know you CAN do it, you just never lose the ability to do it again, no matter how long you stop in between. Unlike a language…if you don’t use it, you lose it. Ngerti?

Songs like, “What Can I Do To Make You Love Me”, “Shaking Like A Leaf”, “Runaway”, “Queen of Hollywood”, and the sort. Oh how we enjoyed every opportunity to break free. Looking at ourselves those crazy, but successful years, I had wished that our lecturers and tutors before us would have been a happy and crazy lot. Like we were. And I saw it with my own eyes how we infected the students with our excessive happiness syndrom. Hmmm those were the days.

Anyway, since Be left, I have been busy. Updating my CV and gathering materials for my long-abandoned scrapbooks. CV? So I’m going back to slavery, huh? Eeesh, babab dia! What a nasty choice of vocab. Mind you, I have nothing against working. The thing is, I can’t start. Once I do, my tendency of falling into that one of the Horlick groups is expectedly high. Work-a-Horlick lah.

Be’s 40th birthday is coming in less than 3 weeks. Our 50th month anniversary…exactly a week before his birthday. And if I got the job, I will have to start in precisely one week from today. Tell me, how am I supposed to jenjalan to Sharjah to see Cik Nan & Co. who’s arriving definitely in three days from now while Bibik’s and my road permits will only be ready probably in another 2 weeks?

Adoi laa! Is it true that, when one has too much time in her hand and too little to do…she would either talk too much about the past, or worry too much about the future? More often than not, one would end up doing nothing at all and feeling just like…uh, nothing, as well. Eh?

Me a fine bovine one of a kind.