Homeless
“Evicted is a rather strong word honey,” Damon says. And I don’t know what to think.
The first box of my possessions left for Singapore this week. I’m uprooting and moving to the other side of the planet and we’re homeless? Nowhere to live? Thrown out on Serangoon Road? Situations like this don’t fill a Canadian boyfriend with heaps of confidence.
“It’ll be fine,” he continues. But I’m not so sure.
If I were homeless here, I could cope better. I would pack up my front-loading LG washer and dryer on a wagon, and know where to go: houses with unguarded outdoor power supplies and carelessly unattended water taps. I could survive. And smell fresh doing it.
Singapore is another story. I’ve been there a total of 5 days in my life. Damon took me for a spectacular dinner on the top floor of a posh hotel and I looked at the city twinkle in the night. It was beautiful. But surviving within the bowels of it? Homeless? I wasn’t convinced.
But I don’t want to seem like the type of boyfriend that gets nervous about being homeless in a foreign country. I try to play it smooth and cool, like this type of thing happens to me all the time. Entering Singapore, I’m already technically an illegal alien, so why not homeless?
I start to surf the net for hints and techniques on weaving palm fronds into a sensible ranch-style bungalow. Because what do I know? Something inexpensive and portable that will be comfortable and stylish as well as typhoon proof. And what the hell am I suppose to do during a typhoon anyway?
Most of my suggestions, Damon doesn’t think practical. Palm fronds? Laundry wagon? So when he suggests I look at the Singapore property market on the net, I become completely confident that I will solve the problem.
“What district do we live in now? What district are we moving? 8 thousand dollars a month! The Bencoolen? What the hell is that? A penal colon?”
Damon decides that it best if I look up properties he suggests, which proves more useful. I make helpful comments such as, “I like the bathroom” and “I like the pool.” Not very practical. So, with no help from me, Damon solves the problem and finds us a home.
But I think I’ll learn how to weave palm fronds into a stylish home, because you never know.
