Project GC

I have been busy!

- Errands.

- Household chores.

- Going for massages with the gf.

- Project Declutter. On the scale of 10 of clutter-free success rate, we're an 8 now. The Wardrobe especially, looks smashing.

- Interviews. Yes, I've decided that I really do wanna continue working. So, I shall :)

And above all that, we have Project GC. Project GC requires time and strategy. Project GC can cause uninvited stress due to not-so-professional people / people without ethics. Project GC is the pot at the end of the rainbow.

I am working on it. I am working HARD on it. Mini treasures have been collected thus far, and I'm as happy as can be. Although seriously, Project GC IS the pot at the end of the rainbow. Not easy, but we'll be there, one step at a time.

Come sing with me now: "Slow and steady, we go. And to GC we go! "

*fingers and toes crossed* x

Clothes Folding Spell. I Need One.

Household hates. What are yours?

The OK(s):

1. Chopping / preparing ingredients for cooking.

2. Cooking, definitely. Therapeutic.

3. Handwashing laundry.

4. Hanging up the washed laundry.

5. Vacuuming and mopping the floor.

6. Cleaning and scrubbing the entire bathroom.

The NOT OK(s):

1. Folding clothes.

2. Ironing clothes. Absolute hate.

So, the point for listing down the above is to show to you JUST HOW MUCH I HATE FOLDING CLOTHES AND IRONING.

The only way to ease me into doing them is by blasting some of my favorite songs. The usual suspects - Madonna, Late Night Alumni and Hotel Costes. Hotel Costes is an absolute favorite when cooking. They (HC + Cooking) are like tango partners. They go hand-in-hand. They make me produce meals that are cooked with mucho amore. Corny, but true.

So now we have a pile of clothes just sitting there waiting for me to pick them up and patiently fold them piece by piece. We need God's intervention in this. I hereby, call out to God, to grant me the serenity to fold clothes without going crazy. Amen.

Random:

Book by Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones. Read it months ago and I loved it.

How can you not love a book that opens like this: 

Inside the snow globe on my father's desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white-striped scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, letting all the snow collect on the top, then quickly invert it. The two of us watched the snow fall gently around the penguin. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, "Don't worry, Susie; he has a nice life. He's trapped in a perfect world. 

Saw the trailer last night and I really hope it will be as good as the book. This rarely happens, I know. But I can still hope.

Everything But The Pork Jerky

Today, we got all the items listed in the shopping list. Well, almost.

- Babe's 2 new shirts

- Babe's new pair of loafers

- Got my dad 2 new shirts

- Found the ideal black swimsuit in Schwarzenbach for myself

Prior to that, we managed to get 4 great seats for Feb 11's opening screening of Valentine's Day. We look forward to this with Hot Hoochi Mama Julia & Hubby. A little pre-CNY delight before everyone gets caught up with the whole dong-dong-chiang business. Bought tickets also for the family for a movie on Feb 12.

Yes, we got everything and everything but the 'bak kwa'. There was none to be found. 

Nevertheless, today has been a great day. A slow and easy day that started with Babe going for a checkup with the doctor due to an injury during futsal, a nice little lunch, productive shopping and a mini massage with uDesire *wink*. I'll drink to more days like this. 

Cheers, everyone.

Repeat After Me

Everything will fall into place, you'll see.

Everything is gonna be ok.

*hugs*

Please. Just die.

We slept pretty late last night. Babe had a work event that dragged on till 2+am, while I was working on Project Declutter. 2 bags full, as of now. I aim to fill up more of the large IKEA plastic bags as I go along. Wasn't feeling particularly sleepy even though the little hand on the clock had touched 2.

By 2:30am, I had single-handedly massacred about 30 cockroaches. Maybe 3 large ones, 10 teens and the remaining ones which contributed to the majority number are infants/toddlers. Weapon at hand: Toilet paper (loads of it,for squishing) and a bottle of Bygone, for the adult roaches. We NEED to get the pest controller guy to come and seriously end this problem. I had just about enough of seeing baby roaches scurrying from one end of the room to the other.

I go: *squish squish squish*

And we have: 30+ dead roaches.

All 30+ of them were tossed into the toilet bowl and flushed away to oblivion. I don't know about you, but I have this sick satisfaction of killing roaches because they fcuking irritate the hell out of me. Not that our place is dirty. We have maids cleaning up the place almost on a weekly basis. I have even eliminated the hair-on-floor problem, so the floors are spanking clean. So seriously, WHERE.IS.THE.EFFING.NEST?!

*grrrrr*

Why do I get this being-mocked-at feeling that I can never rid them off despite my  daily effort of roach-massacring? 

Maybe she's right.

I am a survivor. I am like a cockroach, you just can't get rid of me.

- Madonna