Old house, memories, flour, end of the world

My mom and I were just talking about making lanterns for the Chinese New Year when I suddenly remembered the atmosphere in my old house. I can even smell the altar right now. Hmm…brings back memories.

I would always rummage through the altar closet to look at the lamps, vases, lanterns, and especially the red cloth you’d hang on your door when new year is around the corner. For some reason I always do that at night. (Actually I rummage through a lot of stuff in the house just about anytime of the year because I was always too free). We had a few of those red cloths, embroidered ones and plain ones. I like the embroidered ones but my mom was always rooting for the plain one. We would argue on which to use and of course, every time, she won.

And then there’s that morning feeling in the living room. I wake up, go down the stairs to the sofa in the living room and continue my sleep. Then I’d start to sweat because I forgot to turn the fan on. But sometimes the cool breeze would blow in through the window and you’d hear people coming back from the market. I would only get up to turn on the fan when the heat was getting unbearable or if the postman just dropped by. There’s also the smell of the joss stick burning. Once my mom bought the wrong ones and they made tears well in my eyes.

And when mom returns from the market I would grab her bags to see what food she bought me :P Food in Pulau Tikus is always good. I haven’t had a decent breakfast since I stayed here up on the hill surrounded by uh, hills. And there’s also the famous pork satay sold by the uncle who parks his cart on our street. Now I’m starting to wonder, why our street?

Oh there’s also our back door. Our favourite back door. When you have nothing to do, you open the back door and stare out at the alley. When your dog needs to pee, you open the back door. When you wanna throw food out, you open the back door and the cats would come. When you need to fag, you open the back door. Of course I don’t fag. I still remember how it feels like sitting with your butt on the brick outside the back door. My back door!

And then there’s the balcony. And the door that opens to the compound. And the cool floor of the washing area. And the time when I was 5 when I shit in the potty in the living room. Okay we don’t need to go there do we? Sigh, all the memories are there. I wonder if these feelings and memories would soon fade away with time.

On the side note, the country is now short of flour. Next week onwards, no more roti canai for everyone. The mamaks can finally register a loss in their account. Yay! I’m so excited that the world is ending.

P.S. I hate having 2 blogs. I had to crack my head just to think of where this entry should go. Sheesh. This one? That one? Finally this one. I should put another entry full of pics in the other blog. Yes I think I will. Yay! Problem solved.