Part two in reponse to an earlier post:
For two weeks, my mum was away in Sydney, helping my oldest sister with her one year old daughter. My other sister (I have three), was just starting her Asia Trip. So that meant I was home alone. And I enjoyed it a lot that when people came by to visit and check up on me, I actually got annoyed instead of grateful. It was one of those rare times where I was alone but I was not lonely.
I kind of cooked my favourite dishes, though I didn’t stray too far from the basics. So, I didn’t cook ratatouille or soup, but I cooked mushrooms, courgettes and rice. Basically, I had those three ingredients in almost every dish.
I even learned to wash towels and none of the colours of my clothes “bleeded” into other clothings. So I felt very independent. Then my mum came back and does everything. Seriously, I don’t even wash dishes which I actually liked to do even though there seemed to always be dirty dishes in the sink.
One time, my sister came by my house to check up on me and eat dinner, and she scolded me for having dirty dishes (the same dirty dishes she saw the day before). The next time she came over she asked me in an accusing voice; “Did you wash the dishes?” and she went to the sink and saw that there were still dishes. By then it was 5pm and I was too tired and fed up to explain that they were new dirty dishes. “You don’t know my life”. Sigh.
This reminds me of a quote or saying I once found on google; “If you want to make it as a writer, move out of your mum’s place”.
Sadly, I think it’s true.