Yesterday was the peak of my epic laziness. I woke up at 12:30pm again, after promising myself the day before that I would wake up at 8:00am so that I could turn up in time for the “Daily Arrival Information Sessions” held by University of Sydney.

That promise never materialized.

My phone alarm rang at 8am on the dot. It was cold that morning and I left the window open for some fresh air. However, this resulted in cold drafts blowing into my room. So I switched the alarm off, closed the window and buried myself deeper into my quilt. Ah… comfort….

Minutes later, my phone rang again. This time, not in the tone of the alarm. Damn, someone’s must be calling me. I twisted around half-heartily and groped around for my phone with my eyes still shut.

After locating my phone, I peeked at the caller screen and noticed two things at once:

First the incoming called was listed as “Dad Singapore.” Had to answer this.

Second was the timing. The time was 12:30pm.

What. 12:30pm?

I didn’t overshot my sleep by 4 minutes. I overshot it by 4 hours and a half. 4 hours. So the promise of going to the information session was immediately shot down. That thing starts at 10:30pm anyway.

I groggily got up and tried to make my voice all bright and cheery. Clearing my throat, I took the call. A few minutes into the conversation with my dad (something about my M1 mobile subscription), my phone died. It didn’t literally died but it just disconnect the call and the screen went blank. This happened a few times with my phone and I knew what it meant: phone has stalled. Yep. My phone stalled.

The only solution was to flip my phone close and patiently wait for my phone to resuscitate itself. After the screen came back to life, I dialled my dad immediately and apologized and explained to him that my phone died halfway, not because I wanted to cut the conversation off (I didn’t said the last part).

My dad just said okay and told me to disconnect the call, saying he would call me back so that I didn’t have to pay for the phone charges of making an overseas call.

After another few seconds of waiting, my dad called me and thankfully, my phone didn’t stall or do any funny things again. My dad asked me what was wrong with my phone.

And I was thinking, yeah, what is wrong with my phone?

With that, the story of my troubles with my phone unfold.

My phone had been no trouble for me the past three years. Yep, I got this phone three years ago. I know that for a Singaporean guy like me, three years with the same phone is quite a long time. In a country where people change their phones every six months/one year/or when a new model hits the market, three years with the same phone is by far, for me, the longest I’ve spent with a phone.

So far my phone has been giving me few problems even though it had to bear the brunt of my abuse. Such a supporting and understanding partner, I must say. And example of one such abuse is me dropping my phone and shattering it with such impact that my screen went completely blank. I could answer calls and I could still use my phone but I just can’t see a thing because the screen was destroyed. Thankfully the screen did not crack.

The worst thing was that I got my phone barely four months ago. A brand new phone destroyed because of my carelessness. How I dropped the phone is a rather funny story. I was holding my wallet in my left hand and my phone in my right. I wanted to put my wallet on a counter but my brain got momentarily confused and my right hand released my phone. Fortunately, my phone was covered under a one year warranty so I rushed down to Nokia Care Centre at Wheelock Place and pleaded with the customer service officer to save my phone’s life.

Okay, I didn’t really do that.

Since I knew that any damage to the phone that was caused by human means i.e. dropping it or flushing down the toilet bowl were not covered under the warranty, I lied to the customer service officer and complained that the screen didn’t work and I just got the phone four months ago.

The customer officer bought my story (helped by the fact that my phone was only four months old) and asked for my warranty card. After confirming my details, I handed over my phone, waited for two weeks before collecting a repaired and brand new phone, fixed free of charge.

After that major fiasco (that was the only one), everything was relatively smooth sailing. Truth to be told, I was using two phones during the same period. One was the Nokia 8310 (type NHM-7) and the other was Nokia 6131 (type RM-115). The latter was the four months old which went through the free operation.

Here’s a photo of Nokia 8310:

Here’s a photo of Nokia 6131:

The reason why I used two phones was that I was serving my National Service. During this period, I could only bring the Nokia 8310 to my air base since it did not had any camera functions. However, during the weekends, I would switch back to the Nokia 6131. This went on for two years until I completed my two years service and I then started to use the Nokia 6131 exclusively.

I love my Nokia 6131. It’s small but not that small till you can’t read the keypad. It’s light and best of all, its a flip phone. With just a press on the button at the side, the phone automatically flips open. It got two screens: one on the outside, on the cover and the main one in the inside. The main screen is big, it takes up almost the whole length of the first half of the phone. So that means I don’t have to peer at my phone to read SMSes.

That said, things had been going well the past 10 months since Nokia 6131 and I started to date exclusively. Problems started surfacing after I settled down in Sydney. A few days later, I inserted the Telstra pre-paid SIM card into Nokia 6131. At first, all was well. Until I realized I could not get any SMS from overseas number.

I only realized this when my parents told me that they texted me. I would give them a blank stare and told them I did not receive anything. Subsequent tries from them proved that I could not receive any overseas SMSes but could send SMSes overseas. I could still receive both local and overseas calls and make local and overseas calls. I could also send and receive local SMSes.

I thought something was wrong with the pre-paid SIM card and so decided to head down to the Telstra shop to enquire about the SIM card. In the mean time, I decided to just let the problem run it course, thinking it was no big deal. I mean, I’ve inserted Bangkok SIM card and Vietnam SIM card, in addition to my usual M1 SIM card with no problems. What more can a Telstra SIM card do to my phone?

After my parents went back to Singapore, I went back to the same Telstra shop that sold the SIM card to me. The same salesman was there and he recognized me. So I explained my problem to him and he told me that there should be nothing wrong with the SIM card. Maybe it was the way my parents keyed in my number when they SMSed me. He showed me the correct way to key in my number from an overseas number and gave me the Telstra hotline if nothing worked out.

Sastisfied, I thought everything was okay. I even texted my parents, telling them the correct way to key in my number and that everything was fine.

How wrong I was.

Apparently they texted me back but I didn’t receive their message.

I only found out about this when my dad called me on Wednesday, saying he texted me. By now, I was quite alarmed. Something must be wrong with my phone. I decided to call the hotline. After some troubleshooting, the technician told me that there must be something wrong with my message centre. He gave me the number for the message centre and told me how to key in the number.

I decided to test my phone again. I SMSed my younger sister and my twin, asking them to text me back when they received my message. Furthermore, I SMSed a local number, my friend in Blue Mountains, asking him to text me back when he received my message.

I did not receive all three messages.

To be fair, I texted at 2am, Sydney time. So my friend could have been asleep. However, when I logged onto MSN, I saw my sister online and asked her if she texted me. She said she did. Not convinced, I asked her to text me again. She complied, but still, no message received.

Shit.

In one last desperate moment, I texted my friend. Suddenly, my phone stated there was no message centre available.

Double shit.

I went to the message settings and looked around for the message centre.

Oh, doubly triple shit. No message centre found.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. What the hell happened? I managed to find the message centre, only after switching my phone on and off repeatedly. I wrote down the message centre number that the technician gave me, but I wanted to test my phone.  The next morning, I received two SMSes from the Blue Mountains friend. I heaved a sigh, so all was okay.

Not really.

After lazing around that day (Thursday), I made a trip to the Broadway shopping mall to do some errands. My mom called me during that time. Halfway through the conversation, my phone stalled again. When I was waiting for my phone to start up, I received all my overseas SMSes together. Oh boy, something’s really wrong with my phone.

After finishing my conversation with my mom, I started fiddling with my phone. It seemed that my phone couldn’t or would not recognize the SIM card message centre and I had to key it in manually. Even if it did recognize it, I couldn’t receive or send any overseas SMS.

I decided to leave my phone alone on Thursday, just doing my laundry and lazing around. But the next morning, when my Dad called me and my phone stalled again, that was when I realized that there was something terribly wrong with my phone. My dad told me to get a new but cheap phone. I was determined to give my phone one last chance. So after I got off the conversation with my dad, I decided to give my phone a test.

This time, I texted myself.

I waited for 1 minute. No message received.

2 minutes, same result.

3, 4, 15, 30, 45 minutes. No message.

Oh boy I’m fucked. Now I can’t even receive local SMSes?

I can’t exactly remember the sequence of how everything went. But to summarize it, my phone cock up within 3 days, and in a foreign city too. What great timing, my mobile choosing this time to unload all its problems on me.

With that sinking feeling, I went onto Telstra website and started looking at their mobile phones. I wanted a touch screen phone, not iPhone 3G-S, but preferably a Nokia or LG or Samsung.

Actually, I prefer Nokia. I don’t want to start re-learning how to use a mobile phone from a differently company. I’ve been using Nokia for more than 6 to 7 years and am used to their functions. I already have enough headache learning how to use Macbook after being a Microsoft user since young.

Sadly, all the touchscreen phones were out of my price range. Even the Nokia phones that I wanted were way, way out of my budget. After some browsing, I landed on these three choices:

This LG TU720 phone above was initially my choice. But its $249 price tag is way out of my budget.

My first choice: Samsung E1250. Price-tag of $89. Its a flip phone too. Unfortunately for me, I will have to re-learn some of the functions.

And the two Nokia phones. Unfortunately, the designs are really crap:

Nokia 2860. Has a price tag of $99.

Nokia 2600. Price tag of $79. But this Nokia design is seriously crap.

So I’m left with the Samsung phone. I guess this is a goodbye to my Nokia 6131. We’ll reunite once we go back to Singapore. But now, in Sydney, we’re on a break.

Adieu my good mobile, adieu.

Do not go gentle into good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

A bit sentimental, no? But a good phone is always a good phone.

I’ve been a very lazy ass the past two days. Waking up at 12:30 in the afternoons, moping around my room with 30 minutes excursions to the shopping mall opposite and more moping around my room.

Today, after waking up at 12:30 in the afternoon again, I was determined to do something. Never mind the fact that tonight was movie night and I could have gone down to watch “Underworld: Rise of the Lycans” and made some new friends at the same time. But I’ve watched that movie twice and I had something important. Something essential that have been put off for almost two weeks.

That, my friend, is laundry.

As I am writing this, I’m waiting for my clothes to finish their sauna in the dryer. Pretty boring wait. First I waited for 30 minutes for my colour load to finish their washing and then I have to wait another 30 minutes for my whites to finish their cleaning. There are two washing machine in my washing area but some bloody joker poured powder detergent in the other one and just left it there. So my only option is down to one washing machine. And a very long wait.

Aside from the waiting and waiting and being very hungry (I haven’t had dinner and its 8:15pm), everything went fine. With my clothes. In fact this is kinda huge thing for me cause… psst… this is my first time doing actual laundry in my 2o+ years on this earth.

Yep, first time laundry man. Cherry popped.

Actually, I did do washings before and I did use the washing machine before. But those are very limited experiences, especially when it comes to doing actual laundry.

The times I used the washing machine was limited to washing rags, towels, tea-clothes and the likes. The proper experiences with the washing machine were at my grandma’s house during my three year stay there and during a Lunar New Year stay at the Ongs’ place. Even then, my job was limited to loading and unloading the machine.

Looking back, I did find it rather funny that I’ve never really learned to wash laundry. I’ve doing housework like sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, cleaning toilets and toilet bowls, washing dishes, changing bed-sheets, and even washing my own shoes.

Yep, I wash my own shoes. I’m very anal when it comes to shoe cleanliness. Hell, ask my brother or my grandma, they’ll agree. Armed with a toothbrush, powder detergent or shoe soap and a pail of water, I’ll clean my 3 pairs of shoes manually. I’ve heard that some people just throw their shoes in the washing machine and let it do its job but I can’t never comprehend that. Washing machines are for clothes, towels and sheets; i.e. laundry. Not for cleaning shoes where you step onto dog/cat/bird/human poop. And I usually give my shoes a very thorough wash every 4 months.

That’s to say, I’m pretty adept at household chores and can even do basic cooking to keep myself alive. In fact, when my parents asked me what was my biggest worry, I didn’t say food (my area is like a foodie’s paradise), I didn’t say housework. I didn’t mention any of that. In fact, I told them my biggest worry was laundry.

Yep, laundry.

In fact, its rather ironic that I know how to iron my clothes but not how to laundry. When I was young, either my mom or the maid (or sometimes dad) would do the laundry for me. As I lived with my grandma, I insisted that I learn how to my own laundry but grandma didn’t allow me for fear of me ruining the machine or the clothes. So I was delegated to the role of loading and unloading the machine or putting the clothes out for sun-drying.

Consequently I never learned the basics of laundry: sorting out the clothes by colour/fabric/dirtiness and the temperature of water and subsequently the drying part; to put in the dryer or to not put in? That’s the problem.

The second part is rather easy, with high-tech washing machines and detergents. Most of the time, its a no-brainer. You throw your clothes in, pour the detergent, choose your washing cycle and wait for the next 30 to 45 minutes. The majority of the work is done by the machine. Even the temperature is chosen by the machine.

But it was the first part of that flummoxed me. I’ve heard the old warning of never mixing your white garments with your red socks/underwear/panties/shirt, lest you want to come with a load of permanently pink garments that would have done the Pink Ranger proud.

It didn’t help that clothes come in different fabrics and certain fabric or not suited for machine washable. Adding to the confusion is that some clothes could only be hand-washed or certain colour loads could be mixed with whites as long as they’re ‘colour-fast’.

The internet with all its information overloaded my brain with all sort of tips and advices. Further advices from mom and grandma swirled the cauldron of confusion in me.

It took me two days to shift through the advices. The reason why it took me so long cause I was such a lazy ass (as mentioned before) and there was just too much information. But slowly and surely (nice cliche) I found what I needed.

Majority of the websites advised to separate the whites from the colours. Sure, that’s pretty easy. But what if I have a t-shirt that is mostly white but with logos or writing on it? What if I have a red and white striped t-shirt? What if I have a grey pair of socks? Do they go with the colours or with the white? Some said to put this in the white pile (at own discretion). Some said to put this in the colour pile (at own discretion). Okay, this is not really helping a novice laundry man like me. How can I trust my own discretion? But trust I did and the red/white striped t-shirt ended up with the colours while the grey pair of socks and mostly white t-shirt ended up with the whites. While I ended up praying that nothing could go wrong.

Some website added that if I really wanted to play safe, I could create a third pile and put all the light pastel colour shirts and the grey pair of socks together. But I didn’t want to make three loads of laundry and waste 9 dollars on just washing clothes. So two piles it was.

Everything was…. ARRGH! OMFG!

Everything came out fine. No bleeding, no Pink Ranger shirts, no destroyed shirts or pants. Phew. Excuse the exclamations, I was just too happy.

Drying was another matter. This time I just followed two advices, the first one on the clothes care label (read that, very important and helpful!) and mom’s advice. Those clothes with care labels not recommending tumble dry ended up in my toilet drip-drying or on my bed (if its not that wet) flat drying.

Those with labels recommending tumble drying, ended up in the dryer with the lowest heat setting (had to paid 3 bucks). The advice from mom was to dry your clothes using the machine’s lowest heat setting to prevent the risk of shrinking or scorching the clothes. After about 15 to 20 minutes, when the clothes are about 70% dry, take the clothes out and then leave them to air dry for the next 20 minutes. Viola, clean laundry! And this minus the need of ironing your clothes too.

So after an approximate hour and a half, I finally cleaned my two weeks worth of laundry and now have them airing in my room. The smell of clean laundry wafting through my room is indeed, the sweet smell of accomplishment for me.

P.S. Put half a cup of baking soda (also known as bicarbonate soda) with your detergent if you are using top-loading machine. A quarter a cup if you are using front-loading. The reason is that the baking soda helps the detergent to work harder and helps to get rid of any foul odours. Trust me, it works. My socks came out smelling cleaner.