A Day Off, More or Less

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThe night didn't quite take. It came in fits and starts, broken up by the phone, which has a particular talent for ringing at the hours when sleep is most reluctant to return afterwards. Each call pulled me back to the surface, and each time I drifted down again it was a little shallower than before. By morning I'd accumulated the sort of tiredness that isn't dramatic, just persistent — a low hum behind everything, the kind you carry rather than feel.

The reason for all of it was a patient who had taken a turn, and who needed sorting out regardless of what the calendar claimed. Because the calendar, for what it's worth, had claimed this as a day off. There's a small irony in that word, "off," as though days could be switched cleanly like a light. In practice they rarely are. The phone doesn't read your roster. Someone unwell doesn't pause to check whether you're meant to be resting. And so the day off quietly became a day on, which is a transformation so familiar by now that I barely register the disappointment of it.

I was busy until two. Not frantically — more a steady stream of things that each needed attention, one after another, with no obvious gap to step out of. The morning passed in that suspended way it does when you're concentrating, where you look up and find hours have gone without quite announcing themselves. By the time the patient was settled and the worst of it had eased, I realised I hadn't eaten, and that the appetite I'd ignored all morning had curdled into something closer to depletion.

Lunch, when it finally arrived, was a late and grateful affair. There's a specific pleasure in eating after you've earned it, even if earning it wasn't part of the plan. The food tasted better than it probably was, as food tends to when it follows a long stretch of going without.

Afterwards the tiredness collected its dues. I'd been running on the borrowed energy of a restless night and a busy morning, and once the urgency lifted, the borrowing came due all at once. I had to rest — not wanted to, had to, which is a distinction my body insisted on with some firmness. So I gave in, lay down for a while, and let the afternoon do what it liked without me.

The plan now is an early night, and this time I mean it. There's a quiet appeal to the idea of a long, unbroken stretch of sleep, the phone silent, the day fully relinquished. Whether the night cooperates is another matter entirely. But the intention is honest, and sometimes that's the most you can offer.

A day off that wasn't, then. Not the rest I'd imagined, but the kind that occasionally finds you anyway, in late lunches and stolen lie-downs and the simple relief of someone being all right in the end.

A Holiday That Forgot to Check the Roster

Please click the photo above to play the daily videoThere is a particular irony to a public holiday that arrives for everyone except you. The Agong's birthday had emptied the roads and shuttered half the city, yet the ward, as ever, took no notice of the calendar. Patients do not observe royal occasions, and neither, it seems, does the morning round. So while the rest of the country lay in, I made my quiet pilgrimage through the wards, notes in hand, the corridors unusually hushed.

Two of the team had vanished eastward — off to a meeting in China, leaving the rest of us to redistribute the workload with the cheerful resignation of people who know complaining changes nothing. The round went smoothly enough, and by noon I was free, which on a holiday feels less like an achievement and more like an unexpected refund.

Anita and I pointed the car towards Wangsa Maju, drawn back to Alpha Angle for lunch. There is something pleasantly unhurried about returning to a place that once formed the backdrop to ordinary life. When we lived in Gombak, this was where we drifted on idle afternoons, before either of us had the sense to wonder where the years were going. The mall has changed in the small ways malls do — a shopfront here, a new signboard there — but the bones of it remain familiar, and familiarity, on a day off, is its own kind of comfort.

Lunch slid easily into groceries, as these things tend to. One does not set out to buy a trolley's worth of provisions, and yet there I was, examining the relative virtues of one cut of something against another, while Anita made the more decisive calls. We left heavier than we arrived, which is the unspoken contract of any visit to a supermarket.

From there to Mid Valley, on a mission for bedding — a phrase that sounds far grander than the reality, which was the two of us standing before a wall of identical white linen, trying to detect meaningful differences in thread counts neither of us fully understood. We chose something, eventually. We always do.

The final stop was the Apple Store at TRX, where the day's true purpose quietly revealed itself. Anita had her eye on the new MacBook Neo, and after the requisite admiring of the thing in its box, she walked out with the citrus model — a colour that manages to be cheerful without being loud, much like its new owner. There is a small ceremony to collecting a new machine: the heft of it, the promise of a clean slate, the faint suspicion that one's old habits will migrate across regardless.

We came home as the light softened, the boot full, the day quietly accounted for. Not every holiday needs to be remarkable. Some are simply for retracing old steps, buying sensible things, and watching someone you love choose a laptop the colour of marmalade. That, I think, is holiday enough.

When the Day Lowers Its Voice

Please click the photo above to play the daily video

A slow start to the morning — not by design, exactly, more by quiet consensus between body and bed. Some days announce themselves with energy; others arrive in soft focus, asking only that you don't rush them. Today was the latter. I obliged.

The traffic, of course, had no such gentle disposition. Heavy from the outset, the kind that turns familiar roads into unfamiliar tests of patience. There's an art to sitting in KL traffic without losing your composure entirely — somewhere between resignation and acceptance, with a thin veneer of optimism that the next light might change everything. It rarely does. But you keep that hope going, because the alternative is despair, and despair makes the journey feel even longer.

By the time I reached clinic, the day's pace had set itself. Slow. Unhurried in that particular way clinics sometimes are, where each consultation stretches a little longer than expected and the rhythm never quite picks up. There's no fighting a slow clinic — you simply move through it, give each person the time they need, and let the morning unfold at whatever speed it's chosen. Some days you're the conductor; other days you're just keeping time.

The afternoon brought rain. Proper rain, the kind that arrives with intent rather than the half-hearted drizzle KL sometimes attempts. The sky went grey, the temperature dropped a degree or two, and everything outside took on that washed, slightly muted quality that rain brings. There's something restful about working through a downpour — the world outside busy with weather, you inside getting on with things. The two activities seem to balance each other.

By evening, Anita and I went out for dinner. Nothing grand, just the simple pleasure of being fed somewhere other than home, sitting across from each other without the small distractions of one's own kitchen. The rain had eased by then, leaving the streets that particular shade of glossy that makes everything look a touch more cinematic than it has any right to. A good meal in good company on a quiet weeknight — these are the evenings that don't make headlines but quietly hold a week together.

Back home, we settled in for another episode of For All Mankind. The show continues to be a steady companion — ambitious, occasionally devastating, the sort of television that rewards attention rather than demanding it. There's a particular pleasure in watching something properly made, the way each episode builds on the last without rushing or showing off. We watched, we discussed, we paused for the inevitable "wait, who was that again?" moment. Standard viewing protocol.

After that, the evening just drifted. No agenda, no second activity, just the slow wind-down that a tired Thursday deserves. The week is nearly done, the rain has cleared the air, and tomorrow is close enough to feel within reach. Tonight, though, asks for nothing more than a soft landing.

And a soft landing is exactly what it gets.

A Different Start

During the New Year weekend, we had a small leak at the kitchen. The workers needed to switch off the tap for 24 hours. Therefore Anita booked a hotel room for us overnight while the work were being completed.

It was more of an apartment unit than a room which she got. It was called the Gardens Residence and it came in a single, double or triple bedroom setup. Only a single was available and there were than enough room for us for the night.

If not for the slow wifi and limited cable channels - which meant no United match that evening - things could've been better.

The best thing about the place was you just had to go to the ground floor and you were already at the Gardens Mid Valley. Shopping galore! That also.made getting fried more straight forward to add to the decent room service Gardens Residence offered.

There were also a gym and swimming room available for guests although sadly I didn't have much time to explore.

Would definitely worth a visit with the apartment going at quite a reasonable price. Location was great although I had to get up early the next morning for my ward round ...

Raya Groceries

There would not be Raya without the rush for grocery shopping a few days before. We did our bit at Mid Valley on the Sunday before Raya, and luckily we were early and were able to secure a parking slot right near the entrance. By the time we were done, the place was already jam packed.

The AEON at Mid Valley was undergoing renovation which made the shopping experience less than ideal. We ended up having to shop at two places - meaning two queues at the cashiers. Not fun. But being AEON, you could almost guarantee that you would be able to get everything under one roof, and that was what happened.

An hour and a half and we were out of there, just needing to ferry the stuffs over to Gombak ....