The dry season started about three weeks ago. And with it, the kind of humidity that makes showering a decadent dessert.
For days now, it has been difficult to stay at home with my shirt on, and on Sundays, when things are quieter, I fall into this daze like I could hear my hometown or my grandparent’s place. Sometimes, it feels like the sea is just a kilometer away and Jean, my cousin, would be out in the beach collecting shells and seaweed. But of course, anything exciting within a kilometer from my place now is an empty lot where my dogs do their business. Or the village grocery store.
Today, I planned on cleaning up and putting away clutters, which, though I try to stay away from accumulating, always end up being on the ottoman or on the center table or the shelves. That, I planned to do before lunch. Now, it’s 4 o’clock.
I would like to say it's the humidity. And it will not be entirely true. A few months back, when the temperature would fall to a nice 24 degrees, I would be on the couch thinking, the place is not that bad. Not like the college dorm some two decades or more back. I like a clean place, and when I do start cleaning up, I can do it with a passion. But getting myself to do it requires a tremendous amount of energy to get me off my inertia.
Instead, I open my ipad and start something I planned to do a year ago - writing something again. And because, I could not think of anything to ramble on, I think about iced coffee and a glazed donut.
And there’s the delivery. It’s hard to miss Grab driver’s bike halting to a stop. It would be a crime to make him wait too long. :P
