Scrawled in my notepad during an MRT ride between Woodlands and Novena stations

At 6 pm today I sent my husband the following SMS: Stuck. On a tracin from Woodlands. With no book, no Clie. Help!

I wanted to say "I'm fucked", but I couldn't be bothered to re-teach my Nokia how to spell "fucked".

Then I took out the notepad that I mercifully had with me and jotted this down. Then, even more mercifully, I got a seat as we were pulling up to the next station (Admiralty, I think). Only 21 stations to go before I get home. Woo.

I have no book and no Clie because I left them in the office. I left them in the office because I was thinking I'd go back for them (and work) after I was done at Woodlands. I was thinking I'd go back for them because ... Well, my brain must really not have been operating today --- stress from not knowing how to make conversation with PS all the way to Woodlands! --- because I didn't realise till we'd left the office that our appointment probably wouldn't end early enough for me to go back for my stuff and that I would go straight home from Woodlands.

For those of you non-Singaporeans reading this, all you need to know is that Woodlands is very far from where I live.

Now that I've found this notepad, at least I have something to do.

Today, I heard my Ultimate Boss extol the virtues of what kids learn from playing with Pokemon cards. Before today, I wouldn't even have expected him to use the work Pokemon in a work-related context, let alone delve into the intricacies of card swapping/trading/sales. Will wonders never cease.

On the flip side, last night I witnessed a musical tribute to St John Baptist De La Salle. There were six songs, mostly in the key of Alternative Pain and Whining, with an oddly Disneyesque number in the middle (the part where the townspeople were making fun of De La Salle, I think). I could feel JBDLS flipping over in his grave like a Mexican jumping bean all through the 'musical'. Good thing it was put up by primary school-aged boys; if nothing else, their age made the whole production marginally forgivable (as opposed to the laugh-out-loud angstfest of pure camp that it turned out to be).

Why shopping in Singapore doesn't pay off: They advertise a shirt at the price of "2 for $9.90" but refuse to sell single pieces, even though all the shirts on offer have visibly identical stripes and I wouldn't want to own two of the same. And they look at me funny when I want to have just one. Hello! I'm not dressing up Bert and Ernie here ...

My friend, the G-man, is going to save me! I will alight halfway home and he will pick me up, since he's going to our place fo the weekly NIE crew D&D ritual anyway. Salvation is nigh!


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