Fly or Die?

fly or die

Friday, February 04, 2005
It ain't over till the cock crows If there is one thing I do not like about Chinese New Year is the spring cleaning. Ever since I could tell what a mop is, I have hated household chores with a vengeance. But Mom thought otherwise. It was character building. And, at the back of her mind, her way of equipping me for a blissful domestic life of crisp, soap smelling laundry and glossy floors that you can safely eat from. But she failed. I still find no joy in cleaning the flowery metal window grills, drowning those thick furry black dust bunnies that cling to our ceiling fan blades, cleaning the undersides of table legs or scraping goo off our drains. Blech. Probably the only fun I had was from that cane furniture set which came with foam cushions and removable cushion covers. (Oh! You know the type that was all the rage in the late 70s, early 80s) You take them cushions out to the sun and whack the life out of them with this big fandangled cane torture instrument, which looked like something Justice Pau would hold to mete punishment. I'm not sure whether I got rid of the dust, but at least, all that anger was put to good use. In my younger days, I was foolhardy enough to try to squirm out of these chores. Let's just say that proverb about a woman scorned is coined because of Mom. Ever since, I've returned every weekend before CNY to do penance. I suspect that mom knows she has not succeeded in turning me into Martha Steward. But being the optimist that she is, she probably thinks that this year could be it. That I'll see the light. And begin to love the way detergent always leaks into your rubber gloves and turn them all squishy and soggy. How delightful! And so, I will return tomorrow to my mother's home. Don those gloves and pray that it better be a big angpow this year. They don't give money for nothing. And oh yeah, Gong Xi Fa Cai, everyone. May the cock crow ever so loudly for you this year. Pencil chewed at 11:01:00 am //
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