Hooray

Sorry for not updating in a while. My excuse is simple: I just stopped procrastinating at work.

But while I’m in a much-missed digression mode, I might as well put something up.

I was supposed to reply to a guy in college about taking part in this year’s inter-college road relay (Yes, I’m back in college. The explanation.) He used to rope me in for a lot of athletic activities, at an age when I could still afford to waste energy on keeping fit. Our team got Gold for the relay in 2003, and everyone was happy. But to repeat the feat now? He was better off telling Paris Hilton to drop down and give him fifty.

I had the weekend to decide, and when I opened my eyes on Monday morning, I was still stumped. It was a great start to feel healthy again, but I wasn’t sure if I was able to commit my time to the training. And turning a deskbound woman into a Flash Gordon in 2 weeks is, mind the pun, a pretty fat probability. With these thoughts running through my head, I climbed out of bed halfway and whacked my cold knee right into the corner of my little sister’s drawer left slightly ajar. My leg gave way, oozed some plasma and I was left wailing on the floor for a good ten minutes. My first decision of the day was made for me, and thus began the mother of all bad days.

I went to the office and realized that my camera was not at my desk. The entire day before, I had been looking around for it in my house. My worst fears were confirmed: I’d lost my digital camera a few days ago, when I took it out of the house for a long day out. I had no recollection of removing it from my bag, so I could have left it at the post office, the bank, the grocery store, the bookshop, in college... It was too extensive a feat to continue my search.

When I got home, I suffered the wrath of a father also having a bad day, and got ambushed with a barrage of pent-up frustration I played no part in provoking. Already disillusioned by the events of the day, I had left the front door of the house open before going upstairs into my bedroom. My older dog sneaked in and devoured an entire black pepper chicken that was left on the dining table for dinner. The rest of my family came back from their jog and they finished off whatever was left of my mangled self-worth.

I bitched to one of my friends on the phone about my crappy day and muttered “It can’t get any worse than this...” He warned me not to say that because people always get proven wrong with that statement. True enough, I took off my spectacles to go to bed, and realized that one of the little stems that rests on my nose had completely broken off, which explained the strange fit for the last part of the day. I don’t know how or when it happened, and I couldn’t even take a picture of the damaged frame or that last contorted look of desolation I had on my face as I buried it deep into my asthma attack-inducing pillow.

Cheers to a better tomorrow.