I never made my bed at home.
I never cleaned the kitchen.
But here, everyday, I make the bed.
Many times, after a meal, I clean the kitchen.
Not because I’ve all of a sudden become tidier.
However, they are probably one of the only things I feel I can control about my living space right now.
There is a story someone told me just before I left HK.
She lived in an apartment with her family, including a brother.
Her brother got married and his new wife moved in with the family.
Everyday, the wife came home, and headed straight for her and her husband’s bedroom.
She never made much of an appearance in the living room, and the family never really noticed.
Until one day, the husband told his sister, my friend, why his new wife stayed in their bedroom so much.
It’s because she felt like an outsider. She didn’t feel like it was her home. She felt like she was intruding, and she didn’t feel comfortable lounging about the living room, putting her feet up, watching TV, munching on chips, or whatever.
She told me that story about her sister-in-law, not because I’m moving in with Nasty permanently or anything, but as an example of unexpected things that can happen when you live with someone.
I’m not supposed to be here for long, so I guess I’m not supposed to feel all “this-is-not-my-space” since this is not supposed to be my space in the first place. Besides, it’s not like there’s an entire family here.
I’m not very sure why. But I make the bed.