It has come to my attention that, of course, my writings
thus far have provided a rather porous understanding of what it is that I do
here on a regular basis. Like all my other posts thus far, this will not be
exhaustive, but I’ll try to just write about a little chunk of my life in the
next…fifteen minutes because then I am heading out, and I’ll see how far I get
in telling you a touch more about my daily life.
It begins at 5:55am. That is when my alarm
clock starts blaring from the little side table beside my bed. I reach over
stiffly and strike it into momentary silence. I consider whether I want to wake
up just yet or risk not getting into the bathroom first. Some mornings, it’s
worth being annoyed about having to wait to use the bathroom to just lie in
sticky black for a little while.
What do I mean by sticky? Oh, but of course! I’m
a little sweaty when I wake up in the morning. When one does not have air-conditioning
and the world outside is perpetually warm, that happens. I mean, I may sleep
with a sheet over me on cooler nights. Most days, I just lay on top of my stiff
foam mattress and call it good as I rest my head on my stiff foam pillow. My
accommodations are not complex. That is okay.
So I wake up and slowly move through my
fourth-floor apartment to the kitchen. I take out a pot, fill it with a little
bit of water, set it on my two-burner “stove” and start my water boiling. Every
morning, I have oatmeal. Any of my roommates from university know that this is
not very different from what I did there (except I might rotate with Chex or
granola, but those options are not available to me). While the water is
heating, I take a bowl from the drying rack, a spoon, spoon out a serving of
brown sugar in the bowl, and wait for the tell-tale bubbling from the pot. I
cook up some oatmeal, and go sit in a chair by the fan so I can stay cool while
eating my piping-hot breakfast.
Most mornings, I get up and open as many
windows and doors as I can to help cool the place down. The reason I do not
keep them open all night is to keep nature out. Having lizards in the house is
very annoying and occasionally messy if not just startling. It is not fun to
almost step on a lizard. It is not fun dealing with lizard poop. It is also not
fun when one accidently squishes or dismembers a lizard and then has to clean
that up. In addition, insects that like to bite visit in the evening so
sleeping is a time to be attacked. Alas, another reason not to keep windows
open even if they would provide a degree of coolness. There are no screens on
the windows.
Once the oatmeal is eaten and I’ve enjoyed some
sleepy meditations over methodically masticating mush, I go and wash my dishes.
One must always wash the dishes! Ants love to eat anything and everything if
flies do not. Thus, to keep the kitchen and home clear of more things that bite
the skin and crawl all over, cleanliness is definitely a virtue. I do not
always succeed and then must start a bleach battle.
From washing dishes, I brush my teeth and then
have some quiet time. To, ya know, be quiet.
Just before seven, it is time to don my school
attire. The night before, I always select the appropriate baju kurung for that
day. I cannot always be trusted to make decisions of such importance in the
morning so I pull one out of my little
closet the night before. This is partially due to the fact that every Thursday,
I’m supposed to wear the traditional batik to school and have forgotten in a
sleepier state. Furthermore, on Wednesdays, we have special activities in the
morning which might also demand different attire. With a baju kurung on and my
bangs clipped back so they don’t flop all over my face and stick there as I’m
sweating through my teaching hours, I am ready to head out the door.
By 7:10am, I am descending from my floor down
to the parking lot.
In the “car park,” I head over the corner where
they sometimes burn trash. This is where I park my motorbike, Eisenhower aka
Ike. I’m not sure why a Yamaha Lagenda should be named Ike. It makes about as
much sense as naming a Subaru Outback Arturo. However, with the combination of
a long, dignified name and a really sharp nickname, it gives me opportunities
to be affectionate to my motorbike on its good days as well as (mentally or out
loud) yell at it when it feels, yet again, like being obstinate. If all goes
well, I start my motorbike and head for school.
And that’s how much I can type in fifteen
minutes.
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