Life is fragile.
What a gross understatement.
Life is a freaky roller-coaster ride I can’t wait for it to end sometimes.
Just when I thought everything is breezy in the office today, so that I could actually put a pencil to real paper, with hope to write a short story or two – Bang!
Don’t kid yourself, silly woman.
As of quarter to 12 this morning, I have on my desk:
1) Three unlisted files at Shah Alam high court because they decided to transfer the files to the new court. Of course, the files went missing in the process. I have no clue what to tell the client.
2) One file got struck off last week because my good-looking-smelling-like-a-million-buck idiot of a clerk forgotten to minute the master diary. Enough said. No further elaboration needed here. Perhaps, I should mention that I probably need to go down on both knees and grovel to the Timbalan Pendaftar to reinstate the case.
3) The four wheeler, which is still in Naza’s garage, will not see any light of the day any time soon since Allianz is not covering the whole damage. Naza and Allianz are trying to shift the blame on “this is not our fault” kind of thing. If you ask me, don’t buy anything (even if it is only a keychain) from Naza or Proton. And sharing car with your spouse is a nightmare.
I have written zero words on the short story except that I have drawn a star, which sadly looks like a flower, on the Moleskine. But, yesterday, when I had all the time in the world to write, I actually baked a cream cheese butter cake from scratch (thanks to Ummi’s blog) and bragged about it to my friends.
Let me put this misery into perspective: like many aspiring authors out there, I write only when my “muse” is around, and this muse (god bless him/her) is a tricky person. The more I chase him, the more elusive he would be.
Now I have unthinkingly written 330 words. Not bad day for my writing aspiration/perspiration.
Postscript: Can I still interest you to read Hassan’s story?