The Scapegoat Wife

Any mistakes
Shirk responsibilities
Blame the wife
Playing the words

Wife becomes the scapegoat
Wife admits own mistakes
Only to be pushed to the brink
Living in hell

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Inspiration On: Wednesday, 17 November 2015

Since I didn’t sleep for one night, I feel so relieved and sleepy for the script and children’s book reach the end. When I am tired, my husband asks about the prudential and need immediate reply. He tell me to cut the kindergarten earlier so can get refund. Then he mentions to me for my mum not to show dark face to the maid. His presumption is getting stronger. So I rebuke him. He emphasizes that putting our son into The nearby kindergarten is my idea and responsibility. That shows he is finding fault. When I ask him whether I am his wife, he plays with his words meaning whether I want to be his wife. Can see he is scheming. I need to stand up for myself.

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Wish you all have good days and thank you.

Worse Than Salted Fish

Washer >
Uh!
Such an awful puke smell
Worse than salted fish
That pair of black socks
Ended in net box socks
For a week
Sometimes more than a week
Oh no!
Its puke smell is
Worse than salted fish
Unbearable
My poor nose
But I have to endure
I should endure
To fulfill my responsibility
Months pass
A year pass

Me >
One day
Sniff! Sniff!
Salted fish?
Worse than salted fish
Searching its source
Following the puke smell
Leading me into the kitchen
In between kitchen and bathroom
Such an awful smell
Flying from the net box
For putting socks
A pair of black socks
Oh! It’s my husband’s socks

Washer >
Confess the low frequency to wash
A pair of my husband’s socks
Worse than salted fish

Me >
Should have told me earlier
Immediately tell my hubby to daily wash his
Pair of socks by putting into
That net box socks
But it fall into deaf ears
Conclude to helper to daily collect his socks
Two days pass by
One night explain the killing puke smell
Days pass by with daily socks collection
One day
He drops his own socks
Relieved

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Inspiration On: Friday, 23 August 2013 at 11:12pm
Inspiration On: Saturday, 24 August 2013 at 9:11am

Finally, today is the first day my husband takes out his socks and drops it into its washing box. But my happiness was only last for one day.

No Time

Rushing to complete tasks
No time for eating
Work and work
No time for rest
House and family responsibility
No time to relax

Buzzing mind in the midnight
No time to sleep
Busy writing down inspirations
Glued to poetry
Enjoying myself
But
Dozing off for a few hours
But
The clock sings to wake me up
Staggering brain
Jagged body
Sleepy in the morning
Drinking tea
Not enough time for myself
And the cycle continues
No time to relax

No time for myself?
Midnight is the best time
But midnight is sleeping time
No time for musing?
Midnight is the best time
When everyone is asleep

No time?
Fighting against time?
Lack of time?
Buzzing mind?
Midnight?
Persist in my faith in Christ
Sleep or write
Write and sleep
Writing brain during sleep
Loving to write during sleep
Wake up and write
Write and write
Excusing for
No time to eat

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Inspiration On: Monday, 1 July 2013 at 1pm

Joining Alastairs photo fiction mentioned by Penny L Howe at http://alastairsphotofiction.wordpress.com/2013/06/30/photo-fiction-sunday-june-30th-2013/. Enjoy. Though, I’m doing freelance work, being a full time housewife is the most dreaded occupation for me. That’s why I can relate to this photo fiction. Total word count is 151 words.

Eraser Finger

Draw. Draw.
Draw straight line
On the paper.
Draw. Draw.
Draw until
out of the paper.
Stop!
“Clean it.”
Pointing finger.
Instinctively,
Using his pointing finger
Use finger as an eraser
To
Rub, rub
Rubbing slowly
Rub, rub
Rubbing patiently
Erasing the straight mark
On the table.

It’s gone!
What?!
It’s gone!

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Inspiration On: Monday, 8 April 2013 from 1:40pm to 9:04pm

In the afternoon, my son and I were colouring with crayon. Suddenly, the straight line he drew was out of paper and left mark on the table. I told him to clean it by asking a cloth to wipe it. The reason for me to do so is hoping to instill a sense of responsibility into him. Unexpectedly, he used his finger to rub upon it and the crayon mark slowly disappeared. My eyes popped out in disbelief how he knows such a way.