Let me backtrack.... after staying up till 4 am to watch CNN's Michael Jackson's memorial service at Staples Centre the night before and then having to go to work shortly after, I came back home last evening in a daze (yes, I'm a night bird who can sleep late but who needs to wake up late too).
Barely making it through dinner, I forced myself to catch the local production, 'Red Thread' (if only to listen to the poor diction of some Chinese channel crossover actors) partly due to the subliminal advertisements urging us to 'catch the season finale of Red Thread' and I've got to admit, partly due to some stellar acting. Anyhow, I could hardly keep my eyes open through Red Thread and finally fell into deep stupor on the living room couch. Apparently, Mike (who had also stayed up late the night before, to catch MJ's memorial service) had also fallen asleep concurrently in our bedroom with his PSP still running.
So anyhow (what the heck am I getting at? oh yes, I was talking about the love letters), I woke up feeling so refreshed at 10.30pm and pleasantly surprised to find No.1 and No. 2 (that's what I call my kids sometimes) quietly doing their own thing in their respective rooms. You've got to realise that as a full-time working mum, this is hard to come by. They're usually surrounding me with their antics right up till past midnight. I've really got to start falling asleep on the couch more often in the evenings. This should send them packing into their rooms earlier.
With hubby snoring away, I snuck into the bathroom for some overdue ME time. That meant slathering on a tub of cheapo Watson's hair conditioning cream and wrapping it up with an old Genting hotel disposable shower cap (Yes, this aunty here doesn't care that it's called disposable for a reason. I'm one of those who will bring back all those tiny bottles of shampoos from hotels. Why throw when it's still useable? Am I saving the world in my own way, then?).
Anyhow, I cover my face with a nice green mud mask, touted to keep my face supple and sit on the loo to read a gossip magazine. Forty-five minutes and a nice bath later, I suddenly have the urge to pull out a big rectangular storage tub from under our bed.
Hey Presto! What do I find? Amongst the usual 'I-don't-need-but-can't-bear-to-throw' stuff, I find a nice Burberry make-up pouch filled with old receipts (from 1999 and with the ink still intact - isn't that hard to come by nowadays?), photos and of course (finally, the end of my story) the lover letters from my dear, Michael.
So here they are:
"Truly from Lionel Richie"
and Janet Jackson's "Let's Wait Awhile"
Janet Jackson's "Let's Wait Awhile", not to be confused with telling me to cool off but he'd written that to me because we had to be apart for a while. We'd bought the cassette tape with this song at a Pasar Malam (night market) the night before he was due to leave the country and while he was away, I just played it over and over and over. It became one of our favourite songs.
You will notice on the top of the letter, he referred to me as 'Maknenek' (a.k.a 'kaypoh' / busybody). Who isn't? Anyhow, I referred to him as 'O.G.O' (Oh Grumpy One). Who isn't? We've stopped calling each other that for years now though. There's a nice fuzzy feeling when I see these letters again. It reminds me of why I married him.
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