I don’t know how I can reach out to my bb constantly without being such a pain. I guess, keeping it on a blog is better than jus sending email randomly.
I don’t know how long my attention for blogging will last but I will jus strive to preserve my memories in this platform, at least at this very juncture. That of uncertainty, gloom and craze.
Though stuff uttered could be so repetitive, it still tug at my very heart string. One that is so forlornly attached and beating.
My colleague shared earlier this week during lunch, at how awkward the affectionate term, ‘baby’ gives her goosebumps and I was quietly smiling to my ‘bb’ and ‘boo boo Jing’. I have no qualms calling out in public but bb did tell me to not call her bb in dec/feb holidays cos pple looked. Last night, she told me to stop calling her bb, becos it irks her. A term of endearment whose sound she no longer attuned to not stomach at this point in time.
I know I am not best in following up but always the worst in f**king up. It ain’t new at all. Murphy’s law always prevails in my case, with 100% accuracy.my middle name is disaster.
Made a pot of winter melon soup! Again.. Too much water after adding the ribs and melons. Stupiiiiddddd! Don’t I ever learn.. Aarrgh…. Results: bland soup with mushy melons.