by Ervin

I live with my parents.

It’s a beautiful house. I’ve actually only realised how much flowers there are around the place when my Mum refreshed them for Chinese New Year.


Frankly though, I suspect my folks are trying to throw me out. Ok, maybe that’s exaggerating it. What they’re really hoping for is that I settle down (that’s getting ‘married’ for those who are more comfortable with that term) and get my own place – which means I’ll move the hell out.

I don’t think I’m a pest to my folks. I help my Dad with his computer problems (many of which I have no solutions to), and Mum with her English lessons and usage of her almost prehistoric Nokia mobile phone.


But understand this: the house is my Mum’s domain. I’m merely renting a room for free. More often then not, I get in her way (which is why I try to stay in my room). This was never more evident during my recent hiatus from work when I spent 2 months at home being a human barrier to her domestic roads around the house. She was less then thrilled to be honest. The manor belonged to her and her alone in the day, the cat not withstanding.

There were times when I think she just pretended I was at work. Case in point: I go downstairs at 1pm and see her eating takeaway lunch bought from the coffee shop. Nope, didn’t ask her son if he was starving before she went out to hunt.

When…IF I do move out one day, Dad would probably want to sell the house and buy a condo overlooking the ocean. He says it all the time.

He may have to find another way to finance his condo and possibly live alone though, because I’m pretty sure Mum will not move an inch. The house is her life. She attends to it like a painter applying colours to the work of his life. Weekends are spent cleaning the house, putting touches here and there, moving things around to keep the place sprightly, and any shopping trip invariably yields another bargain ornament for this Christmas tree that is her castle.


Dad and I always tell her to take it easy with the housecare. It’s not like we throw parties every weekend (Mum would turn homicidal if that happens). But over the years we’ve grown to accept that as tiring as it looks for her sometimes, it’s simply another kind of leisure – like Ikebana, except you’re basically dressing up a pile of bricks.

All she asks is that we don’t get in the way.


Off to arctic New York tonight. Hoping for interesting stuff to blog about along the way.