Old and musty

My boyfriend left on his trip to the provinces to sell bags yesterday. It is his first time away from home in weeks, as his work appears to have dried up. ‘It is more fun being at home than working – I can cook, and look after you,’ he says.

I do not mind that Maiyuu has no work to do.

When he is at home, I do welcome the occasional break, such as when he pops outside to buy something in the market, or visits his friends in the condo.

We shoot each other 100 glances every day. They are our ‘making sure' glances. I worry that I may have done something to upset him, and vice versa.

However, now that he is away all day, I miss my Thai guy. We have fun together... moments when he will say something funny, and I have the wit to reply in similar vein.

A recurring joke is that I am getting fat and old. My eyesight is also getting worse.

‘Soon I will need to guide you everywhere...I can be your human walking stick,’ he says.

Or: ‘You smell like an old man.’

‘How do old men smell?’

‘Musty.’

The day before he left, Maiyuu visited the hairdresser. He has come back with his hair cut in a new, super-short style, with a small tail at the back.

‘You are more handsome,’ I say approvingly, as I pass my hands through his hair.

‘Can’t you keep your hands to yourself? You are like an octopus,’ he replies.

The first payment from the extra work I am doing has arrived. We are both excited, because we will be able to buy a few things which for months we have been unable to afford.
The night before pay day, we went to bed at the same hour, but neither of us could sleep.

Half an hour later, he heard me stirring on my bed.

‘I smell old man!’ he called out.

In his absence, I talk to myself to stave off loneliness, but it is not the same.

-
The mad man who lives along the railway line below has just fed his chickens. They shut up briefly while they gobble down their food, before resuming their chicken noise.

The trains start about 6.30am, but he’s already up, as are his chickens, who squawk most of the day.

The other day they were mysteriously quiet. I walked out onto the balcony and noticed he had filled the open-sided tin shed next to his place, where he raises the birds, with a large mound of soil. ‘Maybe he’s buried them,’ I said to Maiyuu hopefully.

Alas not. The noise resumed a day or so later, when he removed the soil again.

This morning as I write, he has lit a fire inside his shed, and is working on his motorbike. The man sells Thai desserts on a cart, which he attaches to the bike.

What is it about men and sheds? He spends more time down there with his chickens than he does with his own family.

-
Readers may have noticed the Google Adsense advertising on this site. If you see an advertisement which interests you, please do not be afraid to click. It helps keep this blog in business.