Can I, Can I Not?

Nice house she has at Savannah Condominiums. Grey sofas, purple curtains, brown showcase for her perfume collection, crystal lights that changes color, neat kitchen.

I didn’t bring a camera.

It’s pleasant to know that she is happy with what she has achieved though laden with outstanding bills for the apartment and car. No one could blame her for her lack of initiative to turn on the air conditioner for her clammy relatives who just came up from the stifling car park, who also happened to ride that airless elevator still covered with brown paper and specks of sand so obvious on the light colored elevator flooring. I had to ask her three times to allow me to plug up my notebook filled with SpongeBob SquarePants seasons for the younger kids who found happiness playing hide and seek in the apartment (and even so she did not exactly agree, I kinda take it into my own stride to make that decision so I can spare my youngest aunt from her compelled role of a temporary watchdog). In the end, the kids stopped running. They found new pleasure sitting quietly in the unventilated study room perched in front of a notebook watching the silly cartoon.

So yes nice house with not so comfy guest features.

Although Gavin (her husband ;p) did turn on the air-condition immediately when my cousin Audrey walked out complaining about the stuffiness innocently (she's such a sweetheart ;p).

But the snacks’ great though, most of the dim sums were there, and she bought an extra twenty curry puffs from Old Chang Kee and had them sliced into halves which can then serve forty people. Now, of course there weren’t that many relatives who attended the little party, it’s just nice to know that she remembered the golden rule, “To divide and to share” at times like these.

Nevertheless we had a lovely time in the cozy apartment despite the face that she burst another one of my fantasy when she said I could sprawl out on a mattress when I drop in for a sleepover instead of what I was hoping for, to camp in, in the grandparent’s room. So looks like she honored the term “grandparents’ room” a little more than I expected to ask her favorite cousin to sleep out on a bed of sponge.

Perhaps I should be thankful. At least I don’t have to sleep on the couch. That would have crossed the line.

I can’t wait to see her get married and move into her own home officially, and I can start experimenting with her limitations whenever I drop by to visit. Till then, I’ll just have to entertain myself with quirky thoughts about her present guest reception skills.