Settling in

It's funny. Before we started house hunting in Singapore, we set down a prioritised list of criteria, did many many hours of online research, and spent several days seeing apartments with our increasingly frustrated real estate agent. The evenings were spent comparing notes, refreshing our memories with photographs of the properties we were discussing, and assessing each apartment against the criteria on a spreadsheet. 

And then we walked into this place, and both of us just instantly liked it. It wasn't perfect - in fact, it actually did not meet quite a few of our criteria - but it was the first place that felt like it could be home. And that was how we - rational, model-making, excel-wielding, B-school types - chose our new home. It just felt right. 

So in we moved and discovered that the apartment came with its very own Ugly Naked Guy. Yup. Fellow who lived across from us and liked to sit by his window in his underwear and surf the net. Perfectly positioned to be within our line of sight from our living room and balcony. 

2 weeks into our stay, we realised that we had to do something about it. Imagine, we'd plonk down on the sofa to chat and relax after a long day, and there he would be - Naked Netsurfer, Eyesore Extraordinaire. I sent up some strong complaints prayers. Make him move, I pleaded. Or at least let him put some clothes on. Really, if we had to have a naked neighbour why couldn't he have looked like John Abraham? Now that I would be totally cool with.

Of course the good book says that God helps those who help themselves, so apart from my nightly prayers, I also began to work out what combination of hanging pots and screens on the balcony would block of our view of the bare expanse I did not want to see. But even before I could put that into action, it seemed my prayers were answered. One day I noticed some contractors in his apartment, and within a couple of days he was gone. The husband and I heaved a huge sigh of relief and all is well in our world again.

Well almost. Last week, I was playing with Munch on our balcony and I saw something in another apartment window that had me do a double take. A woman, doing housework - in a bra and thong! Ok, so she's not quite Ugly Naked Guy. For one she's most definitely not a guy. And not ugly either. And apparently she doesn't do naked housework on a regular basis because I haven't seen her since.

But I am rather mad about the whole thing. I'd asked for a John Abrahm lookalike, dammit! Someone up there has a very twisted sense of humour.