Wala lang. Nagkukwento lang.

My brother Earl needed the computer for most of last night to work on a sideline project. I told him that it was okay for him to transfer the computer to his room in the interim since I needed to get sleep. He suggested that me move the equipment out into the corridor instead.

The computer table was a bulky wooden thing, very mid-eighties type, and we couldn't get it through the door because the corner of my bed was in the way. The solution would have been to take all the computer stuff off the table, then lift the table high enough to go over the bed and out the door. But brother and I, lazy as we were, decided to keep the equipment on the table try and move the bed out of the way instead. In doing so, we had to move the study table out of the way, too.

Now my bed's the type without legs. Not even stumps. It's not the kind the bogeyman would want to hide under because he simply couldn't unless he was paper-thin. And it's been in that one spot in my room for over three years. So you can just imagine the amount of dust and dirt we found underneath it. My cousin volunteered to sweep it all out, as she knew how it would trigger my asthma. (It's about the only thing that does.) But no one was prepared for the smell. Dead rat, they said. They told me it was best to get an air freshener. Lysol, I thought. Smells good, yes, and it kills molds and mildew, too.

So with my bedroom sporting an adjusted lay-out and the computer table taking up 60% the width of the corridor outside, I stepped out of the house at one thirty in the morning, clad in sleeveless shirt, shorts, and slippers, with a good Php300 and some loose change. There were quite a number of convenience stores in the area, but the safety levels varied, route-wise. Public transport was very very scarce, and walking was the best option. The relatively safer way was the one along the JP Rizal PUJ route leading to the Marikina Bridge where a 24-hour Binggo store was located. It took me a good twenty to thirty minutes to get there, walking along quiet and near empty streets, and I must remember not to do so again wearing slippers.

With ankles slightly aching and me slightly sweating, I reached Binggo and froze in front of the shelf of household chemicals. No Lysol. Not even a Bay Fresh. Darn. There was another store in the area, some 10 or so minutes away near the city hall, and I was off again, ignoring the slow groaning of my calves. Good thing was, a 24-hour grocery was along the way, which had a much wider selection than any other convenience store anywhere. I got my Mountain Air scented Lysol (as opposed to Crisp Linen scented Lysol), and a few things brother and cousin had asked me to get for them. Happy, I walked back the way I came, and at Binggo a jeepney driver announced a trip. I was home in less than 10 minutes, and joined my cousin for a nice chat over sodas and Lucky Me ChiliMansi Pancit Canton.


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