I am not a DIY- er. I have never tried to make, fix or learn how to repair things that are broken or stopped working. I don’t like DIY. Which by the way is not part of the Malaysian culture. At least, not this Malaysian. It also doesn’t help that I am hopeless at it. That is, when I’ve had to, and gave it a half-hearted go. Problem is I am mentally ready to call people whom I know, know how to fix the problem. From leaky air-conditioners, faulty toilets to domestic cleaning. I have a ready directory of names. 

Cooking and cleaning also fit into the DIY realm. Disinterested and sans children, I never saw the point in cooking. My culinary skill was limited to sardine and tuna sandwiches. And, as a treat, I used to rustle up a peanut butter sandwich for my husband. Seriously, that was the extent of my gastronomic fare. I had a kitchen with a gas stove but no gas tank. During my growing up years, my mum never taught, encouraged or included me when she cooked or baked. A bit of ‘tai-chi’ there – lay the blame on the old girl. The truth is I didn’t want to know. And, it didn’t occur to me to learn. Eating out or cooking? The former, without question. 

As for cleaning, that absolutely gets my fingers and thumbs-down. Cleaning is a repetitive and pointless job. My husband and I started out as DINKS. Farming out the cleaning seemed like the sensible thing to do as we both were unwilling candidates for the job.

It’s August already. Eight months into 2020. Over four months since Covid-19, and the various phases of the Movement Control Order (MCO) in Malaysia. Our lives and lifestyles have changed somewhat. The obvious being ‘No Entry’ to tradespeople.  Not yet. And, that’s not because everything has been working like clockwork. Not at all. The air conditioner in the living room leaked, yet again.  Calling my trusted air conditioner person was not an option. So, who did I call?

My husband. Another non DIY-er, who promptly placed a couple of towels to keep the floor dry, and a pail to catch the water. After a few weeks of the drip-drip of water, we turned to YouTube. Some variations to the instruction, and a vacuum cleaner later, the problem was solved. He also fixed the toilet tank that failed to fill up and prevented the flush from working.  Again, after a few weeks of manually hosing the cistern with water, we referenced YouTube. Connecting the bidet hose (luckily that was working) to the cistern outlet solved that problem.

Eating out is what we’ve always done.  Still do, now that we can.  Unusually, I started baking about two years ago.  I still bake and I enjoy it. The fact that I am half good at it is a huge and pleasant surprise to me and my husband. Cooking, on the other hand, was never on my radar. Nevertheless, I am making an earnest effort to learn, mostly from Google, how to make Indian curries and side dishes for my mum. Particularly now as she’s not interested in takeaway food.  Also, she is super slow and super tired every time she cooks herself a meal.  

Cleaning remains a repetitive and pointless job. I cannot say it enough times. I know I’ve drawn the short stick. I also know that I can re-engage a cleaner for my mum and our condos. But, I am not yet comfortable with outside help. Simply because I don’t know the people/places my cleaner comes in contact with every day, and the corresponding risk of exposure. What I know is I will never get any good at cleaning.  Why? No matter the hours of dusting, vacuuming and moping. More dust, dirt and grime seem to prevail. They sneakily reappear quite immediately.  Without waiting at least the mandatory week (when the next cleaning schedule is due) to dirty the floor and spoil my view. I wonder aloud how they reproduce so quickly and where do these evil things come from. Why can’t they stay hidden or invisible to me and my 20-20, useless peripheral vision? Or why can’t they all go to that great dust/dirt/grime heaven forever? Yes, talking to oneself is a side-effect of cleaning.  

I am not sure how long I, we, can be DIY-ers. There is no air conditioning in the bedroom as the power switch is broken and needs changing… The laminate on the wardrobe chips off every time I forget to gently close the left side of the double door … My fingers and hands protest after each cleaning.

Vaccine or vaccine where art thou?