Sunday, March 12, 2006 .

Newspaper Lady


There is this old lady that comes around the block frequently in search for her treasures that come in the form of old newspapers. Apart from her annoying voice, which wasn't annoying until i started disliking her, she also has the knack for choosing really bad times to drop by. On more than one occation, she came just as i was in a hurry to go out, and since my stack of old papers is in clear view of my door, i had no choice but to let her have them before i could be on my way.
She also comes fairly early in the morning (like 8 or 9 o'clock) and usually on weekends. If not for tennis yesterday, i'd still be asleep at 8.45am. She came around just when i was reading Life in my living room.


First she went "harlow....(pause)...harlow....(pause for like 20seconds)...harlow aunty ar...ni zai jia ma?" I was keeping real quiet so as to give her the impression that no one was home, but wait, here's something more important - she calls my mum aunty! Or auntie, or however you spell it! It's wrong man! If i got my facts right, you don't call someone by that affectionate title unless she's older than you and not just older, but older by like 10years at least? That old thing is clearly over 70 and my mum isn't even 50. Excuse me? I so didn't get that.


So after her minute or so of standing at my door calling my mother names, she decides that she should try other means of getting our attention, or to try and wake us up if we were asleep. She knocks the door repeatedly while reciting the same thing she did earlier. Annoying! I do have a doorbell you know, and it's not the first time she's doing this! Pardon me for my lack of sympathy but it's hardly a matter important enough to warrant my family's attention at those wee hours. Who comes around at quarter to 9 on a weekend morning to collect newspapers?
Goodness.

So in a bid to stop her from waking the rest of my household, i performed some respectable gymnatics, vaulting over my table and opening the door in one swift, agile, Spiderman-like motion. The papers were in front of her even before she could utter another word. I quickly loaded her market cart with papers and ushered her away from the door way. She always insist on paying for the papers you give her, which i find slightly redeeming. Still, she provides me more hassle than i would feel comfortable with, and it irks me. argh.


I must admit though, that given the amount of effort she puts into getting her papers, i would much rather give it to her than to the garang guni man who blares his horn and screams his chant at equally lousy times of the day. Garang guni men are more irritating in that sense. I wish i could slap them all with a lamb leg, but that's another story for another time.

screaming infidelity at 2:02 PM
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