I arrive early at the office with two big grocery bags.
Early morning. No one else at work. I’m the first one in.
I let the particular hum and aroma of the office -- paper, ink and all -- greet me. The air is still, untainted by the noise and smells of incoming people. I love the feel of it.
I start the familiar routines.
Main work lights on – done. Door security alarm on – done. Main UPS power and comps on – done. Network online check – done.
Cable TV on – done. (Damn, someone’s been working overtime watching ESPN again.) Switch to Asian news channel – done. I can do this half-asleep.
Youtube on – done. This one's optional. I don't do it every time, and certainly not for everyone. I just like to party by myself. Sometimes. Lol. Let’s see. What was that running through my head again last night? Oh yes. Tears for Fears. This one, in particular.
Broom and dustpan on – done. Wet mop rig on – done. Cleaning routine checklist – check, check, check. I’m still alone in the office, so I do a little shameless Uma-Thurman, Pulp-Fiction shuffle in time with the music as I mop the floors.
I wanted to be with you alone
And talk about the weather
But traditions I can trace against the child in your face
Won't escape my attention
And talk about the weather
But traditions I can trace against the child in your face
Won't escape my attention
Fax machine beeps. The day’s early media advisories start coming in. I get them and post them on the newsroom billboard.
I resume my cleaning routines. Sings along with T4F. Plays air piano on the artist’s table, nearly topples over the tempera bottles and brush vase.
You keep your distance via the system of touch
And gentle persuasion
I'm lost in admiration could I need you this much
Oh you're wasting my time, You're just wasting time.
And gentle persuasion
I'm lost in admiration could I need you this much
Oh you're wasting my time, You're just wasting time.
Measures rice out from rice bin. One... two... three... four... five... six cups. (Let 'em starve a bit for lunch, I say.) Washes rice. Rice cooker routine – done.
Sorts the items on the kitchen work table. Chop garlic – done. Chop onions – done. Grind black pepper – done.
(Sways butt shamelessly to the music like a Mensa whore.)
Peel and slice young gourd – done. (Admires sharp blade of Swiss knife. "Your next casualty tomorrow will be a fat fleshy squash," I whisper to it.)
Pour salt brine and pepper mix on ground pork and shrimps – done.
Unwrap somen pack – done. Smell somen for flour bugs -- check ok, still fresh.
Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out until I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
I never find out until I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
All systems go. Fire up gas stove -- done. Ah. Wok magic! Let ‘em eat my wok magic!
Saute routine start – done. Garlic -- check. Onion -- check. ((Enjoys sizzle, fine aroma.)) Pour pork-and-shrimp mix into wok – done.
Other staff workers begin to arrive.
“Hmmm, I smell my favorite Moon dish!”
“Ms. Geraldine Hayashi! Git your cotton-pickin’ hands off my kitchen. Right now! Today I am galley slave, and my word is LAW!”
“Well, at least allow me to turn the volume down on that YouTube racket. I need to make some calls.”
“What? You call my T4F a racket? A RACKET??? Why you...!” I react in mock outrage. So I gulp in extra air, mimic Roland Orzabal’s booming voice, hike it up 10 notches higher on the decibel scale, and belt out the next lines ...
Ah don't take my heart
Don't break my heart
Don't throw it away.
Don't break my heart
Don't throw it away.
Back to my cooking. Pour in a litre of water – done. Put in the gourd slices – done. Turn up heat to quick boil -- done.
I made a fire and watching it burn
Thought of your future
With one foot in the past now just how long will it last
No no no have you no ambition
Thought of your future
With one foot in the past now just how long will it last
No no no have you no ambition
More co-workers come in now. They immediately know, by the aroma coming from the kitchen, that I’m up to my favorite no-good bad-ass cooking. One complains about the noise, as she talks business on Skype with an overseas contact. I tone down my T4F sounds, but continue humming and sashaying.
My mother and my brothers used to breathing clean air
And dreaming I'm a doctor
It's hard to be man when there's a gun in your hand
Oh I feel so...
And dreaming I'm a doctor
It's hard to be man when there's a gun in your hand
Oh I feel so...
Rice cooker lever emits loud click, trips up to Warm. Soup finally boils. I break the somen bundles into two, put them in. IMHO, finest Japanese pasta for this kind of thing.
Yummy vapors waft to exhaust fan, with quick detour through my nostrils. My tummy wants a sip, but I hold back. I rarely taste while cooking. It ruins my appetite. The taste should always surprise everyone, including the chef.
Something happens and I'm head over heels.
I never find out until I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Ah don't take my heart
Don't break my heart
Don't throw it away.
I never find out until I'm head over heels
Something happens and I'm head over heels
Ah don't take my heart
Don't break my heart
Don't throw it away.
Hey! It's 11:20 am. I have 10 more minutes to spare. I sprinkle brown sugar and cinnamon onto some thick dimsum wrappers, and fry them into golden-brown, biscuit-like crackers.
Awesome!
“Lunch is ready. Come and get it, guys!”
The office guys stop whatever work they are doing, and start fetching the plates and other dinner utensils from the racks, preparing dips, replenishing the tea kettle, etc. I may be slave for the day, but I ain't no fkn martyr. Everyone helps in whatever way they can.
Who says work always has to be a boring tedium?
And it's my four leaf clover
I'm on the line, one open mind
This is my four leaf clover.
La la la la la...
In my mind's eye
One little boy, one little man
Funny how... time flies!
I'm on the line, one open mind
This is my four leaf clover.
La la la la la...
In my mind's eye
One little boy, one little man
Funny how... time flies!
(Pssst. Hey. Diary. Thanks for reading my earlier blog that explains this tradition of having a slave for the day. I really appreciate it.)
