I left my mac charger in T103. I think. I hope. No wonder when I was at the airport the words "where's your charger?" was floating at the back of my head. I chose to ignore it, came back to Singapore and calmly searched. Calmly tried to contact London. Then the father came in and went HAHAHA YOU'RE SCREWED. Then I started panicking and freaking out. The bloody charger costs S$150.
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I realised today, in the few hours that I have come home how different life is. Like I haven't sat in a car in months, and I never pushed a shopping cart in a long time too as well. No air conditioning, no lactose free milk and no private room to myself (I think my room is 3x the size of T103, slightly smaller than T105). No more worrying about whether I am hogging the shower. It feels a little like I've not left, yet the odd signs are all there. Like how I scoffed when I saw Waitrose store brand cornflakes that I bought in Waitrose Brunswick for like 2 pounds 50 p selling for S$9.60 in Cold Storage.
I need to reconcile my concept of home again.
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