two-week holiday

i was going to meet up with old friends i haven’t seen in a long time. i was going to pore through all eight discs and work on organizing and scrapbooking our wedding photos. i was going to read books, lots of books, maybe one a day, even. i was going to journal (entries which may or may not be blogged) and get in touch with the me who was usually too busy to sit and just be quiet.

in short, it was supposed to be two weeks of productivity and insight.

well, my two weeks are almost up, and so far, i have met up with one old friend, laid out exactly three pages of my ‘wedding scrapbook’, read one book (a john grisham novel, extremely enjoyable but not exactly great literary fare. sorry, john.), and my journal has remained firmly wedged in between old planners where i stuck it a while back.

i would wake up and sweep the floor (stop laughing, jing), then depending on the time, i would make myself either breakfast or lunch. sometimes brunch. a bowl of cereal, a couple of boiled bananas, meat sandwiches. once, i had dinner waiting for alvin when he got home from work, fish head sinigang, which was surprisingly really easy to make (thank you a-kochami and knorr instant sinigang mix).

i would unhurriedly do the laundry, listening to the whirring of the machine while watching top model reruns. i hung clothes in between novel chapters.

i split the second season of glee over the last two days and spent hours on the sofa singing along to the songs i knew, bopping my head to the ones i didn’t, and alternately laughing and crying with fictional characters half my age.

i became invested in the kardashians’ day-to-day.

it was liberating to not have to wake up at a certain hour, rush through shower, pick out clothes for the day and worry about clients and deadlines. to not have think of anyone else but myself and what i would like to see, taste or do at that particular moment.

i found satisfaction and comfort in walking barefoot on clean parquet floors, in quietly folding dry blankets and pillowcases and socks just so, in being startled out of the quiet once in a while and realizing that i *like* my life.

i know that if this were my real everyday i would probably go crazy, but i think it’s necessary to sometimes just stop and immerse in domesticity for a little perspective.

as i write this, i’m half thinking of the sandwich i’ll be making myself for lunch, should i have smoked salami or pastrami today? maybe both.



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