Hic Sunt Dracones

the smylere with the knyf under the cloke

Sisyphus and the Prophet

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I. Sisyphus

I see you’ve set aside this hectic time to lose your priority and further impaired you with multiple tasks that shall rendered you with the tragic Sisyphean merry-go-round – like an amusement. Maybe you like to amuse yourself with inconsistency so much you marvel with the notes upon notes and devoted precious time to simple shot of dopamine after-hour then suffers with hangover of procrastination.

Since when you treated an iMac as MacBook Pro? You don’t packed it around town and got back home to unpack it later for a “quick gig” of narcissism. I’ve already make a scheduled for moving out your stuffs and you rather play snooker until wee hours? Keep up with this attitude in UK — though I’m not sure what kind of sleazy pub will opened at this ungodly hour at Aberdeen.

II. Prophet

The preacher of the altar is running out of time and never bothers to inquire further with that holier-than-thou robe of his. I’m still without clean slate but I wish him to leave with clean sheet on the bed. I don’t expect myself to clean up on someone else’s mess for the last time. Practice what you preach!

This is one confusing convert. Cleanliness is not one aspect that reside deeps in his faith, that’s for sure. Moldy bathroom, broken toilet, unmaintained washing machine and kitchen after usage, spoiled food in fridge and totally absorbed in his utopian idea that the routine maintenance of his rented house seems foreign. I felt like I’m a janitor in this house.

III. Janitor

I changed the bulbs at the living room because no one seems to care with the flickering madness.

I fixed the choke and the starter of the light in Sisyphus’s room, because it’s too much a complex system for an architect.

I changed the broken flexible hose of the toilet because the Prophet’s stinking feces permeating the air (obviously he can’t flush and too “pure” to clean up his own shit) as I step out of my master bedroom (with my own toilet and now I have to take care of theirs too).

I fixed both the outside toilet and Sisyphus’s room door knobs because the Prophet and the Sisyphus doesn’t mind at all about their privacy — much less broken amenities.

Spoiled foods and dairy products are their own little science experiment (perhaps I can tell the same about their floating feces in the toilet bowl).

When I got back from offshore for 3 or 6 months. I can expect a brick layer of lint inside the washing machine’s filter — which none bother to clean up, at least once a week! Last week, I found a handful of coins inside the outlet tube from the washing machine!

The drying rack is broken but no one seems to bother to change the grip mechanism, it took me 5 minutes of twisting and spare foam to replace it.

I make up a list of to-do items last time but the Prophet took it as a blasphemy — like a totem of passive-aggressive notes and a tablet of heresy for championing personal hygiene. So I got a little scribble to fuck myself in his most prophetic manner.

It took Sisyphus quite sometimes to understand my effort for paper and plastic recycling, although he can’t really understand the system behind proper recycling management. If you want to send the refuse to the recycling centre, make sure it’s well tied and properly selected, not with those half-hearted attitude. Good luck with the Green Building Index (GBI) revolution. If you can’t even manage simple recycling, I’m not sure about those green-movement preaching of yours behind those sustainable architecture design.

The Prophet totally lost it to the recycling idea. He took all the stacks of bottle to be recycled to the garbage chute. All of it, that’s awaiting to be flattened!

Maybe I’m a bit anal about hygiene and OCD in the way to implement cleanliness but their ignorance and selfishness are all the reasons I needed to reinforce my Gestapo attitudes.
And dude, both of you lost the humour of my little post-it notes.

What with confused Muslim (and hypocrites) that can’t get witty sarcasm and respect to environment?

I’m getting a Malaysian-Chinese girl (not to be confused with the one from China) room mate next September.

3 more days before you two move out for good.

Let’s see how she — the food scientist — fare.

Wait, now I got a real “science experiment” in my fridge!

Written by cthulhu

August 28, 2010 at 6:01 am

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