Day 12

Another day begins. Stormy tries to be helpful. That it, right until it’s time to eat breakfast. Then she stops being helpful.

After giving up on breakfast, it’s time to get dressed. I look in my cupboard at my multitude of ties and shirts. Left to myself I would have bought the same shirt 10 times and ties that match them all. As my wife had the sartorial eye, I left it to her. Now I need to decide which tie to wear. I will make the wrong decision. I’ve accepted that fate. My only hope is that my colleagues understand and are polite enough not to mention. Stormy is of no help. When I ask, she picks the brightest combination possible and gets upset if I choose anything else. I’ve stopped asking her.

While I wasn’t expecting it for another decade, Stormy has become a teenager. After dinner, I suggested that we Skype her mother as we usually do. Today her only response is to roll her eyes, sigh, and say “alright” in the most resigned voice possible. We didn’t call.

However, before too long she is in bed. As has become the norm, Stormy wants me to check on her every 3 minutes. Not 5 minutes, not 10 minutes, but 3 minutes. A unit of time so specific and yet, in another way, completely arbitrary. I comply with her request. If I don’t, she will invariably come out just after 3 minutes have passed to ask, in her most accusing tone of voice, why I haven’t come to check on her. By the hundredth time, she is asleep.

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* For those who missed the context, I’m not actually single. My wife has started a 5-month contract in Australia (yay). This is a Very Good Thing™. Stormy will be staying with me here in Singapore and I have great help both remotely (from my wife) and locally. I’m writing this purely for fun and to practice writing. :-)