Not Doing Nothing

I have been on compassionate leave since Wednesday (Kak Long was hospitalised with acute gastric, but she getting better now). Although, the first and second day I was busy ferrying people and stuff to and from the hospital, but the third day (since Kak Long was discharged late Thursday afternoon) I woke up in the morning and wish I was going to work.

But, my wife said since I'm entitled to the three day compassionate leave, why not take it all.

Every weekday, I wake up and count the days to the weekend. And Sunday evenings, I dread to think that I have to go to work in the morning.

But, today, I get a glimpse of what happens the very next day after my retirement. I woke up in the morning and find that I have no goal for the day. On weekdays, the goal is to get through the day. The work that I do, monitoring my staff's work, signing checks, making decisions... I take for granted. And I dread doing it, and worst still when I realize that I have to do it all over again tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

But, once I stop doing that..... my life have no purpose. I mean, I can only look forward to.... what? Sleep all day? Watch TV? Play computer games? Ok... what about tomorrow? More sleep? More TV? More games......

So today, I ended up cleaning the house.....

But, I know now that, while I often dream of doing nothing and earning a lot... I really have to do something.

I need to plan from now, for retirement.....

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7 Days to Live

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Another phase in life.... hers and mine...

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Pak Mat Beca

I started school in 1971. I went to Sekolah Ismail (Dua), as far as I am concerned the only primary school in the whole universe and every kid must go there or the government will put their parents away forever. The "Dua" or Two (2), does not mean there were two Sekolah Ismails. There was only one, except that there were two sessions, morning and afternoon. When I started in standard one, I was in the morning session. Apparently, somehow, the two Ismails alternate, and I really can't recall ever having to go to school in the afternoon. Every morning, my cousin, the late Hashimah Hashim (Allah bless her soul), and I would wait for Pak Mat to pick us up in his beca, his trishaw. And, until I changed school in 1976 (that's another story to tell), Pak Mat and his beca would take me to school every school day. I know of no other way to go to school and I did not really appreciate the distance that Pak Mat had to cycle to pick us up and send us to our respective s...

Life's Remains....

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