Playing House

When I was a kid, I remember playing masak-masak and pretending to keep house. It was one of my favourite past times and would often play with Ron, Jan or Karen whenever I could.

Now that I have my own home, I discover I'm absolutely rotten at it. How simple playing house was back then! There weren't cobwebs to clean, house rugs to scrub, a clogged drainpipe, real food to cook, floors to keep clean... For many girls, keeping the house clean comes naturally. They hate the dust, the mess and usually it is the husbands who mess up the place.

I think I've mentioned enough times how KS and I have female and male brains (tested using this month's Reader's Digest quiz), respectively. So you can imagine who is the one keeping the house clean. Guess who's feeling guilty.

There is a reason for me not doing housework, a pathetic reason. My fingers get these tiny bumps that hurt like hell after using a broom, mopping the floor, scrubbing clothes and ironing too many clothes. And the next day, I am unable to hold anything without the pain. Yup, doesn't this sound like I'm trying to give excuses to escape housework? Even as I type it out, it sound pathetic. So bo iong.

I'm off to sweep the floor. In my room. Maybe the tv room too.