Taro chicken — my favourite
It must be the first time that I didn’t make a big fuss online about my current whereabouts. This is because I realized it would save me a lot of hassle – which it does!
I caught up with a lot of sleep; part of it was related to jet lag. But on the whole, it was exhaustion. And I don’t want anyone to get on my nerves.
I have a routine–a life of my own, which I don’t have back home. My mother has a daily routine. How painful it is for me to watch her OCD; I, on the other hand, have no routine at home, and therefore, there is no need to set the alarm as a reminder of things to do. I wake up when I wake up. For once, I should think or feel that I have all the time in the world. Though, it didn’t take the feeling of uselessness long to creep up on me and tell me that I need to find a temporary job.
One thing about home is it’s cold. I mean literally inside the house. The style is old-fashioned. The radiators are hopeless as they don’t seem to work during the day but will go crazy hot at night. My skin is more sensitive than it is in Canada, so it can’t be cold and dry. I must be allergic to something in the house. I think we have mould.
Mum’s nose is sensitive, too, and she is prone to allergic reactions. It can be the carpet in the bedrooms, but I’m almost sure it’s the undetected mould. In short, I hate this house, no matter how at ease I feel. I grew up in it, but I hate it because I can’t offer my family anything better than this. It’s all so 60s. My grandfather built a second storey on top of a former butcher’s place.
I still see old local passers-by stopping in front of our house to scrutinize it with a frown and mumble to themselves. Yes, it used to be a goddamn, fucking restaurant, you shit bags.
I’m not used to sleeping in my room where a clock goes ticktock, and the cars outside on the main road are louder than usual. I could be imagining it. Small town Germans are courteous and respectful drivers, which I’m not because I’m always at someone’s tail. I don’t know if my mum will let me drive her car, knowing how terrible I am with manual and my dad’s automatic car is so big I don’t know how to park it. This is how a useless driver feels – like she shouldn’t drive.
As the useless saga continues, I have to admit that I’ve lost all focus on everything. To tackle this problem, I’ve started grabbing books from my library that I haven’t read. At least 30% of my books that I haven’t read, and astonishingly, I can focus on a single story. I believe I’m on the right path by making myself focus and read. I shall continue strolling up this way until something clicks.
Oh, and I have missed my dad’s delicious taro chicken!
