My doorbell rang last night at 9:30. (Did I mention that my doorbell plays Fur Elise at a deafening volume?) I’d just come home from work, it was -12C outside, and I was trying to defrost. I was wearing my fuzzy jammies, and was curled up in a fleece blanket with a hot cup of tea and a good book; I did not want to answer the door.
The doorbell rang once more so I got up. It was probably the Jehovah’s Witnesses again.
It was my landlord, clearly thrilled that he had succeeded in rousing me.
“I see you light!” he explained cheerfully, coming into my apartment. “So I know you home.”
He peered around curiously; thankfully I had just tidied things. My landlord reminds me of a British robin. He’s short, even by Korean standards, but he’s a little rotund. He always has a curious gleam in his eyes as he dashes around my apartment poking into things, and he cocks his head to one side when he doesn’t understand something.
Seemingly satisfied by his inspection, he handed me these:
“Ok, Ok,” I replied, confused.
“Ok, Ok! Next, this off. Off! And stick! Ok, Ok?”
“Ummm… Ok, Ok?”
Seeing my confusion, he flipped one of the white things over and pointed to the blue underside.
“Off! Off! Aaaaaaaannnnd stick!” he tried again, miming peeling and sticking.
“Ok, Ok!” I replied, giving him the thumbs up.
“Ok, ok!” he said, beaming and giving me a hearty clap on the back. “Good, good. Happy Seollal [Lunar New Year], Carrie-Teacher!”
And he left.
I stared at the white things he had given me. They were about the length and width of my arm, and fuzzy on one side. What were they? And where was I meant to stick them?