I stumble out of bed with my head disheveled from odd dreams, my eyes squinting from the sunlight. Another dawn, another flip on the calendar, yet it’s the same old, same old story for me.

To Do List: Do the grocery (didn’t I just buy cereals and bread?). Schedule a general cleaning session for the apartment (because no matter how much I clean, it’s still not spic and span). Buy the medicines and toiletries my husband needs (what was it again?). Buy a frame for this painting (this room needs an art piece)…

It goes on and on and on. Facing the long list is daunting but my mind will go haywire if I don’t spill the many contents of it into something else. 

I move seamlessly from errand to errand. After almost two years of being a housewife, I know where to go, whom to talk to, how much it costs. A rhythm has been established. But you know what else? Boredom, repetitiveness, ordinary. I move seamlessly, yet reluctantly. I move efficiently, yet unenthusiastically...

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