Day 5. I’ve been doing a shit ton of work remotely. You know things are bad when your escape involves working remotely for a job you hate. Ah well, on the bright side, I like to get shit done. Shrug.

My sleep schedule here is all kinds of fucked up. Yesterday, after we finally returned from the hospital at 6p, my cousin and I headed out again bc he was craving beef noodle soup like a goddamn addict. He’s not from KHH (airport code for Kaohsiung) so we ended up getting lost and driving around forever. I guess my mother conveniently forgot that she accused me of having an inappropriate relationship with this same exact cousin, bc she tasked us with running errands for her, i.e. buying grandpa a blood pressure monitoring machine and then a bunch of drinks for home.

When we finally arrived at the noodle shop, my cousin ordered me the wrong damn thing, and my bowl was chock full of beef organ meat, including furry stomach and intestines! Needless to say, I ate around everything and just had the broth and noodles while he had a double heaping of yum. After that, we went searching for the goods my mom requested… I have to say, Taiwan reminds me a lot of China. Some chores that are super simple in the US just take forever here. For example, my cousin couldn’t figure out how to use the GPS in dad’s car, so he was fidgeting with his iPhone, and we STILL kept getting lost. And no, K, it wasn’t bc he was trying to prolong our romantic time together!! Long story short, the grocery store didn’t even have the special drink she wanted. Argh! We didn’t get home until 10p, and I was completely wiped.

This morning, I was up early again, 4a. I did some more work. My grandfather had an appointment again at the hospital for an ultrasound. At least my mother had the sense to just take a cab. Mind you, the appointment was at 10a. Because she wasn’t exactly sure where the ultrasound would be performed, she insisted on leaving early. Just how early? They left at 8a, and the hospital is 30 min away. Grandma got dragged along again. I guess I should stop making it seem like she’s going against her will. Maybe she wants to be with my grandfather. I don’t know.

By 9a I finally had the house to myself for the first time ever. The phone rang, and A-Hong’s mom said she’s coming down from Tainan. Something like she needs to deliver some special foods she bought for me. She also wants to meet the oldies at the hospital. I tell her they’ll probably be with the doctor; just come to the apartment and wait for them to get home. I’m telling you: this Confucian filial piety shit is no fucking joke. So much babying all around!! It is SUFFOCATING. At 10a, I finally leave the house. My go-to joint is the 7/11 downstairs. In my defense, the 7/11 has a lot of hot foods in addition to sushi rolls and bento boxes and soft serve ice cream. My mother wants paperclips (she has zero stationery supplies). No paperclips. I cross the street and head over to the park to just chill on a bench and drink my milk tea. Inhale, exhale. Thank goodness for some fucking solitude.

Afterwards, I head back thinking my aunt will be arriving shortly. The phone rings, I pick up and the lady, thinking I’m my mother, starts asking me if I like to sing. I tell her, I’m my mother’s daughter. Turns out Mrs. Chen is one of many matchmakers my family uses (for my brother and for my other single cousins). She immediately starts advising me to have a son. No holds barred, man. I explain that I’m American, and I have a different cultural mindset. No kids for me. She persists… a baby girl or boy is fine. You can’t grow old alone! Jesus fucking Christ, people! I tell her that I’m too old. She tells me she knows someone who gave birth at 42. I redirect the conversation back to singing. My mother likes to sing, and actually, it would be great for my mother to get out of the damn house and do some hobbies. I mean, I’m not sure about being friends with a matchmaker, but whatevs. Desperate times, desperate measures. I ask Mrs. Chen where the karaoke spot is. She sings in her house. Her daughter hooked her up with old school Mandarin and Taiwanese songs on the computer. Then, she offers to sing me a song!!! WTF?? Yup, so she blasts it through her speakers and I get serenaded with a Taiwanese song that I don’t understand. What can you do: Mrs. Chen is 80 years old. She’s like a honey badger: she don’t give a fuck. I mean, you gotta give her props for that, right?