:: From What We Came, We Become ::
While washing the plates and cutlery,
I accidentally sliced my middle finger with a knife.
The action happened within the fraction of a second.
I could feel the sharpness of the blade
As it carved into my flesh. Pain came soon after that.
And a bit of blood, but the Handyplast took care of the leak.
It seems that profuse movements while ironing
Coupled with the steam and the heat would cause the wound to
Seep a bit more.
Due to the hectic schedule these days, we reckoned that
It was more productive (in terms of opportunity costs, anyway)
To engage the services of a part-time maid, to do the
Pressing of the clothes, as well as some general sweeping
And mopping; we are never the fussy type, and as long as the
Cotton is unwrinkled, and there's no visible growth on the floors
I think we will smile and be contented creatures.
The quest for a part time maid has been elusive - I just do not
Know where to start looking for one, and while J had a really good
Recommendation for a Filipino maid for only $10 per hour
She has AWOL for the past few weeks. It got me a little peeved
Especially at the last minute, when she would send me an SMS -
"Sorry my boss needs me sunday I cannot make it."
What happens to the pile of clothes? I iron it.
I have no qualms in ironing it - but I'd like to set my expectations right
From the start. So I ironed everything, and I am peeved no more.
But I think we need to start looking for someone more reliable.
Anyway, while ironing, I was multitasking - watching this Indie movie
"Sunshine Cleaning". It kinda made me think about how our
Childhood days - and the memories of certain events -
Will stay lodged in some special pathway of our cerebral matter.
They will determine why we do what we do, and why we do not
Do what we do not do. Personally, I think my childhood did influence me
In not wanting a kid or even father a kid, as I think I would not be a good father.
I also think that I am always putting myself at a distance to others when it
Comes to friendships and relationships, except for the innermost circle.
Actually I wonder if we are ever released from the shackles of our childhood.
Then again, is everyone cuffed to juvenescence issues?
Are there happy shiny people that are brought up by model parents?
I sometimes recoil at Hollywood movies where parents are always perfect
And they would read bedtime stories and pat their child to sleep.
Notwithstanding, it is perhaps, when we are near death
That our childhood will come back to visit us once more.
Like Citizen Kane's William, and his Rosebud.