I relocated near the office to avoid the commute. The idea was not to reduce cash outflow, but to recover the 3-6 hrs lost in commute every day and convert them to reading time. Things didnt quite end up as planned. Because my current rental is 60% smaller *AND* 280% more expensive than my previous apartment in the boondocks, housekeeping has become the unforeseen tradeoff: I had to let go of my trusted housekeeper of 19 years because i could no longer afford her. Heck, even if i could afford to keep her, there was simply no place for her here, unless she slept standing up in the toilet when i was writing. So, for the past year, Id been living like my cousins abroad, with no one to clean up after me. And the 3-6 hours recovered from the commute is now being spent on either: a) keeping the kitchen & bathroom clean, or if not, then b) worrying if ants and germs are going on a fiesta while i try to sleep or write, c) sneezing from the accumulated high-floor house-dust that is apparently impervious to vacuum cleaners, d) passing out from all that Baygon, and e) trying (and failing) to get back into the writing mood after doing housekeeping triage. Its even affected my visitor profile. Instead of inviting the sort of people I thought Id like to know better, its now more about those guests who wouldnt mind seeing a pile of laundry behind the entrance door, guests who remove their shoes without being asked to, and guests who are considerate enough to clean up after themselves and generally not be a housekeeping burden to me (coz honey, your dishes arent going to soap themselves). Its ironic and funny, in an Erma Bombeck sort of way. Toilet bowl tread marks and dirty dishes are my Damoclesian sword. Sigh. Kubeta-and-lababo blues.
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 09:39:16 +0000
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