Chicken Soup For The Soul
I’m so sorry I haven’t been writing in for awhile now. Its not that life has become too dull (cue music to play a long droopy trombone noise) if that was the first thought on your mind. I’m also not going to use the age old excuse that went extinct alongside the T-rex that just couldn’t quite clap, that I was too busy.
I’m just going to say sorry because well life has just been too EXCITING lately.
The other day, Sarah & I had a really big fight in the early morning about believe it or not, The iron (I swore I can hear 70 year old Charles chuckling away from his steel chrome wheelchair) . Thing is, since I started working. It somehow became rather new to the both of us that wearing nothing but our underwear to work may be a potential cause of alarm of most employers. Thus the need to actually have nicely pressed shirts to wear to the office.
This happened f course in the early morning, where the sun had just started creeping over the lands and all the morning grumpy tempers will start to dance.
I asked for Sarah’s help to iron a shirt for me but cos it was a dry iron , and without adding a little water spray there was no way in hell that shirt was gonna get any straighter than the crumpled sack of old man balls it resembled after Sarah spent 10 minutes ironing it so I couldn’t wear it . I proceeded to pick out another shirt to wear in the closet.
I may have, in my morning haste, spoken with an
impatient incorrect tone and that led to slightly bigger fight which then led to a million other unrelated issues (after 10 years , there’s a lot of small little shit can can pile up, trust me) which FURTHER led me to burst out as I hastily left the house in a huff that I having dinner by myself after work!
I stormed out and put the whole thing in a small wooden box at the back of my mind where I keep all the other shit that I try not to give a fuck about but constantly sends fucked up little brain notifications every now and then to remind you about them,
like the name of your super-nice neighbour/colleague/friend’s parents etc that addresses you by name but you don’t know theirs or your never ending struggle with weight management.
Soon enough, Work ended and even though I was tired as hell and all I wanted to do was just go home, be in my underwear, put my leg up on my table and eat some cold storage ham while watching an old season of ‘friends’, I made the choice to have dinner by myself in a quiet little coffee-shop near the place I grew up.
It was a quiet little estate and it had just started to drizzle, making the evening breeze cooling and almost fog-like while little drizzles of raindrops would occasionally smack my arm and cheeks as I ate my dinner in quiet solitude.
I remember eating the chicken chop, which tasted amazing because it was the same western food which came from seletar market (that had been demolished sometime in 2005). I spent my childhood eating with my family in my early primary school days and I look forward to eating there because I ALWAYS have a good time. Its quiet, no one quite knows about it and the food always comes very fast.
But somehow it didn’t quite feel the same this time round. I finished my food, lit a cigarette and leaned my chair against the side of the wall while simultaneously resting my feet on the adjacent chair and took another puff in almost perfect ugly uncle form.
My pride had clearly blinded me to the obvious fact that dinner in one of favorite places was not the same because Sarah wasn’t there. If I were to count my blessings in my life, Sarah would be the reason for each and every single one of them.
Got a diploma? check. Sarah made me do it. Got a job? Check. Sarah designed my resume for me. Be funny? Check. Sarah only laughs when the jokes I make are funny.
The great chicken chop wasn’t so great because I had no one to share it with. I called a cab, picked up my bag and went straight home to apologize for my selfish moment.
As I was heading home, there were some mixed reactions about opening the door. It felt as though I suddenly forgot to behave in front of my wife. Should I not speak about it? be cool? I decided to just roll with it and tried opening the door. It was locked and I left my keys in the office.
I took a step back to further think what to do when the locked jiggled and Sarah opened it from the inside for me as we came face to face. She wasn’t smiling and neither was I. There were no words that needed to be spoken.
“did you have dinner without me?‘ she asked.
‘ Yes’ I said without hesitation before returning the question
‘yeah’ she said softly.
I pulled out a white plastic bag from my back and asked her
‘then who is going to eat this amazing chicken chop which I da-paoed from the XXXXXX coffeeshop? ‘ while dangling the bag in front of her face.
a small smile escaped the corner of her lips as she pulled out from behind the door a KFC takeaway bag
‘The same person who is going to eat this KFC with me’
We couldn’t stop laughing as I hugged her tighter than ever before. We had a fantastic 2nd dinner together and laughed about how fat we were going to be for the remainder of our lives and the rest I guess you can say, is history.
Sometimes you don’t need a sorry. Sometimes you just need a little chicken in your life. Especially if its deep fried and taste great.