and therefore my very good intentions of blogging about my trip to Mulu are moot.

Unless it resumes normalcy very soon.

I think the new chat function is evil.

When I talk to him, he simply stares ahead at the TV or the laptop monitor. Anything and everything I say might as well be the sound of the fan whirring - is it even there? I could be telling him about my day, I could be talking to him about something important, I could be raving and ranting and sobbing, it doesn't matter. But oh boy, if any of his friends so much as coughs...

Is it just my man? Is there a cure? If all men are like that - and I suspect it only gets worse with age - I kinda would like some advance warning so I don't walk into the wall in despair.

I suppose it was only a matter of time, but knowing it's going to happen eventually doesn't make it any easier when it does happen. After three and a half blissful months, my home has finally been invaded by its first lizard.

I hate lizards, and this unwelcome houseguest not only appears to have taken up residence behind my shoe cupboard(!), it won't leave no matter what I do! Even when I leave the front door wide open some four inches away. It simply scurries back behind the cupboard till the next time it surprises me when I walk in the front door.

Then...

I found another one! This time in my kitchen. Two lizards in a week! It was almost too much to handle, and my only consolation was these two were some of the smaller specimens I've seen and therefore don't evoke quite the same level of terror in me. Still, small lizards grow up to become big lizards, and then I really will have a problem.

I know I'm living in Malaysia, and house lizards are as common as people who don't use indicators when they drive, and it's not like I've never seen lizards in any of the previous houses I've stayed in... but somehow, it seems a lot freakier when it's in a house only two people live in. Jeepers, now I sound like the freak.

It's been a week into my resolution to live in the moment, eat healthy and stand up straight, and the determination to do just that is still strong. Especially the eating healthy and drinking lots of water part (I'm also adding 'more exercise' to the agenda). Little did I know last Monday, it was only the beginning.

The rainy weather seems to have brought me renewed resolve to be a better person - not really, I just like using the weather as my all-encompassing scapegoat. Since last week, I've been inspired about/reminded to/thought of a bunch of different things I'd like to see me achieve or strive towards, most of which I've probably forgotten. Still, it's nice to sense and remember the desire if not the goal, which may be almost as important sometimes.

Then there's this guy - Randy Pausch. A ten-second intro: Randy is dying from pancreatic cancer, doctors predicted last year that he had less than six months to live and so he delivered his 'last lecture' at Carnegie Mellon University. The lecture became an Internet phenomenon and he got invited onto Oprah to deliver a snippet of it.

Now let's get this out in the open: I love Oprah. Even on days when I'm totally uninterested in what she's discussing, which isn't very often. Almost anyone who gets invited on Oprah instantly earns brownie points in my book, and if Oprah thinks we should hear this guy, we probably should hear this guy.

Randy had quite a few things to say about living life that struck me, but I'll just stick to these two, which struck a real guilty chord within, for now:

1. Tell the truth. I don't normally have a problem with this... until I know what I really think is going to upset the other person. Isn't that typical? What if I'm really annoyed at someone, but I pretend everything's ok? Is that not telling the truth? The more I think about it, the more I know this is only going to get more complicated.

2. Apologise (properly). Again, something we probably know off the top of our heads, but do we really apologise properly? I don't think I do. In fact, when unprepared, I really suck at it, especially according to Randy's criteria for apologising properly. He says there are three parts to a real apology: 'I'm sorry', 'It's my fault', 'What can I do?' I'm lucky to touch on the second, never mind the third, so I'm going to try and take this to heart, because this is something I'll probably be doing a lot of for the rest of my life. I also want to start by apologising to everyone I never apologised properly to:

I'm sorry. I mean it.

It's my fault. I hardly say this, and I really should say it more often.

What can I do? I almost never say this, although I usually follow up my 'I'm sorry' with an attempt to fix whatever I screwed up, if it's fixable. From now on, I should also ask.

(Note: This only applies to people I've actually apologised to, not every Tom, Dick and Sally who imagine I owe them an apology. Unfortunately for them, I'm also learning to stand up for what I believe in and hold my ground.)

Randy's 11 minutes on Oprah is here, or you can view the full lecture here. He's a great speaker - funny, captivating and so, so brave in the face of medically certain premature death. I first got wind of him from my in-laws, who, along with my mother, are the biggest senders of forwarded mail in my inbox. Interesting...

(Spot the odd one out.)

For April Fools' Day, we came to work in our pyjamas. Unfortunately, not all of us were around for the photo-taking and obviously not all of us followed instructions, but it's okay, we still love you, Christine.

I also just realised today that I am the only married woman in the office. One out of like, fifteen females or something. I know the revelation came a little late, but I feel like an endangered species.

Sivin brought up an interesting thought yesterday: are we lost in transition? As time passes me by faster and faster, I feel a desperate urge to grab on to each day and really live it, as opposed to letting it pass me by while I spend the ticking minutes waiting for the next big event. In other words, while I spend it in transition.

He talked about getting stuck in traffic, a brilliant example. Everything can be a transition - waiting to get to work in the morning; waiting to get home while at work; waiting for the weekend during the weekdays... Then it gets bigger - waiting for the next holiday while the weeks pass us by; slogging mindlessly away and waiting (or hoping) for that next promotion or pay-rise; wishing the days would pass until maybe your wedding day or something...

Am I getting lost in my everyday transitions? Am I so busy looking forward that I forget to look around me where I am? I've actually been mulling this over (on and off) for a while now.

On a TV note, a random episode of Oprah has ignited a resolve to eat healthy. Ironically, I think I ate healthier as a high schooler than I do now. I know I ate a helluva lot more fresh fruits then than I do now. And so, thanks to a combination of Dr. Oz's health quiz and this, I am inspired.

I am also going to do something about my posture. I have lousy posture - this is what happens when you reject those seven-year-old ballet classes, though all those years of Taekwondo should have done something, surely. I can't touch my toes, but I don't really care. Right now, I'll just settle for standing straight and tall, all the time.

I want to live in the HERE (HEAR) and NOW. No regrets, that was my sort-of New Year Resolution.

I am determined to eat healthier. But I'll be damned if you think I'm giving up chocolate. I don't believe in depriving myself and I don't have the discipline to diet, so it'll have to be less processed foods and more raw fruits for now. More cereals and grains too.

I will make a conscious effort to get better posture. It'll make me look taller and slimmer anyway.

Oh yes, and drink more water. Dr. Oz says we're drinking enough water if our urine is clear enough to read through. That's the aim, folks.

So Y is back from Singapore. He arrived at 2.45pm today and I made the rare drive to KLIA to pick him up, trusty C playing passenger for the first time in case I lose my way.

I will admit, I was initially a teeny bit unsure about staying home alone for three nights, but not having to pack up my toiletries and clothes for stay-overs far outweighed the hassle of having to stay somewhere else (my in-laws' for instance). So I stayed alone. And armed the house every night. And realised only after the second night that our CCTV wasn't turned on. Oh well.

The secret, I've discovered, is to not let my imagination get the better of me, and to make the most of my alone time. I am mildly anti-social, after all. Reading in bed lots, going through Jay Chou music videos, watching the Heroes marathon, catching up over pancakes, visiting Grandma and the siblings... I had a to-do list in my head and I've ticked off all but one. Bummer.

Then there was the totally unexpected / unplanned treat. Late Friday night, after a disappointing event, the colleagues decided on the spur of the moment to pop by with a tub of Baskin Robbins. So there we were, pigging out on ice cream at midnight, eating right out of the tub, talking and laughing and ignoring MTV playing in the background. It was a very nice way to end the work week, and a particularly indulgent way of ending what had been a rather trying deadline Friday.

Guys, we really should do it more often, eh?

I forget what flavours we had. Something chocolate, I'll bet.