My husband, ST, didn't plan to make two trips to buy the same thing – kuih keria – at the pisang goreng stall.
It's just that he bought everything else except my favourite sugar-coated kuih keria (doughnuts).When he realised his mistake, he was gnawed by remorse. Perhaps my disappointment showed a bit too glaringly. More likely, he wanted to put things right and friendly between us.
So off he went to the same stall again on his trusty motorbike. The stall owner "chided" him further for his mistake.
So off he went to the hypermarket again, to buy a tray of eggs. (The thing is, I've got used to hearing him exclaim "Aiyah! Forgot....")
The next day, ST wrote down a list of things he needed to buy. A helpful shopping list. A nifty list. Ah, good for him.
"Got all the things you wanted?" I asked, he replied, "Aiyah, I forgot to bring the list," slapping his forehead in exasperation.
Not long ago, I bought a new comb for him to replace the one he lost. Later he found it in his underwear drawer. Now he has a spare. Ah, good for him.
As we get older, not even the most sensible among us, are immune to senior moments and brain fog. Ageing, it's nobody's fault.
That's a lot on his plate. The pressure on my brilliant husband is unrelenting.
The minutiae of daily living can unravel his memory: tea, bread and eggs needed replenishing, the bedsheets needed changing, the garden bush needed trimming and the petrol tank in both cars needed refuelling. What kind of wife begrudges her husband for forgetting this and that? Deep breath.
That said, not all husbands are good at preparing meals. Mine is a regular guy who slips on an ingredient or two, then will concoct or tweak the recipe and still comes up with a delightful dish for lunch.
In a world that is uncertain and fast-changing, I am swapping lofty ideas of perfection with kinder urges to dig down into what we know we hold, what we're capable of, and cherish each blissfully boring day.
