A Quiet Breath

today, i understood the importance of having a spare key at home.

half an hour ago, i was all dressed and packed for a parliament sitting. but just when i was about to open the door, i realised that my key was missing from the hook where i usually hang my keys. my first thought was to check the bag that i carried yesterday, but all the pockets were empty except for a bottle with left-over water that had already turned stale. then i ransacked my shelves and my other bags to make sure i haven't misplaced it, but my key was nowhere to be found.

then i thought, maybe somebody took my keys. and so i texted my family but my mum, being the meticulous and organised sort, didn't take it. my brother didn't answer his phone. (yes, i suspect he is the culprit!)

and there i was perspiring under my formal shirt and pants, the sweat on my temples threatening to smudge my make-up. the time was 1.50pm, ten minutes to the start of the sitting, and my heart sank at the futility of my efforts. i knew i had missed my chance of attending the only parliament sitting that i would probably ever go.

in the meantime, i can't cook instant noodles for fear that i might just set a fire (murphy's law is hard to defy); and i can't even order a pizza because the pizza box won't be able to pass through my gate or window grilles; and macdonalds is out for the week. so i'm just going to contend myself with left-over mooncakes, and a pot of tea.

dinner is still hours away.