When The Going Gets Tough... (Part II)

Flat-hunting in London, sucks.  Every morning for the last two weeks, I awake feeling my body laden with the lack of sleep.  I try encouraging myself by repeating brightly, what everyone keeps saying of me, and what I know I can and have no choice, but to be.  Tammy, you are so adaptable.

I am adaptable!  C'mon, I can do this!

Adaptable, I suppose is another way of saying, flexible, which by the grace of God and a particular set of genes, I naturally am.

Great.  I can just about still spilt with a cold body in jeans.  

Husband:  Baby, because you're so adaptable, we've been able to .... Baby, Sung is right.  I'm so lucky because you're so adaptable!  Baby, thank you for... Baby, it's all because of you...Baby, do you want to buy yourself a gift?

Great.  I can still push up into a semblance of upward facing bow, without first warming up.  Phew.  Surely I can live another two, three, four, five, six weeks on such an aesthetically challenging street without going mad?!

Husband:  Why don't you just check yourself into Number 16 or wherever you prefer when Summer goes back to school?  Or do you want to come back and rest in Singapore?

Singapore?  

This is what it feels like to have blood rushing to one's head.

Singapore.

I'm flexible!  I'm adaptable!  I can still manipulate my 44-year-old limbs!

Even if, I need help balancing (see left arm above), on one leg.

*  photography- Summie Chan, no one was injured in the process.