29 Jun 08 - HDB dwellers throughout Singapore recognise an immutable law --- the pole goes into the hole. And the pole STAYS in the hole.
If you had ever attempted to hang your clothes out to dry, you would know exactly what I mean. In the good old days, my family hung our clothes to dry on bamboo poles and slotted these poles into purpose-built cylindrical pole holders just below the window sill.
Now, I still use bamboo poles. Except that the familiar plastic pole holders have now been replaced by 2 rows of metal holders on each side of a pair of facing windows. And this was largely why I had to pay an unscheduled visit to my neighbour today.
Sometime in the late afternoon today, I was working on our wedding website when a sharp scream emanated from the kitchen. I immediately rushed into the kitchen, expecting to see Her Royal Majesty in a bloody mess.
Instead, she was leaning against the window sill, straining to catch a glimpse of something that was directly beneath our window. I followed her gaze and saw our bamboo pole and all the clothes that were hanging on it, now lying in a tangled heap on the window ledge of our 13th floor neighbour.
Apparently, the bamboo pole had slipped off the metal holder that was nearest to our side of the window. So much for modern housing innovations.
I did not have much of a choice except to make my way down to seek our neighbour's help. Meanwhile, Her Royal Majesty took root in the kitchen and refused to accompany me, conveniently excusing herself by claiming that she was "very busy".
As embarrassing as the situation could be, it was made doubly worse by the fact that this was the second time that I was asking the same neighbour to retrieve our clothing from their window ledge. She must think that we must either have incredibly slippery bamboo poles or clothes hangers that shrink when exposed to air.
Fortunately, she didn't display much of a reaction, and stoically headed into her flat to retrieve our clothes. Curiously enough, my neighbour's son seem to take a greater interest in the matter than my neighbour. There he was, a young boy who could not have been more than 10 years old, standing at the gate, determined to find out from this stranger how come his clothes could "drop down like that".
I was secretly relieved when my neighbour soon appeared, bearing my clothes and the bamboo pole. I quickly gathered them together, mumbled a thank-you and scrambled away from the son's impromptu interrogation.
Back at our flat, we had to wash the clothes again. At the same time, my mind was racing to think of how we could prevent our clothes or poles from landing in neighbouring flats again. Short of using large quantities of metal chains and hemp rope, I could not really think of any good ideas. Save Our Laundry, anyone?
- Melvin
