So there goes the Labor Day weekend. There it is, long gone, as evidenced by the horde of people at the MRT North Avenue station this morning. I took one look at the crowd filling the stairways all the way to the platform three stories up and spilling out onto the road, then turned around and took a bus two stations down, where things were more reasonable. And, in the train, after three days of lazing around, I was still sleepy. My body had gotten used to waking up at noon time, and even on my best days I am so not a morning person.
Three days of utter laziness. Sleeping. Watching TV. Eating. Napping. Every time I’d feel guilty I’d tell myself I’d do some crunches later, which I never did get around to doing. I know, it was a very unproductive way of spending my time, but every time I go home to Bulacan it’s like I’m entering a time warp of sorts, rendering me incapable of any sort of productive effort. Besides, the past two weeks have been way too crazy and exhausting and I was due for some downtime. Long weekends ideally should be spent traveling but I had to work until Friday. As early as Thursday Don had gone to Sagada with his cousins and I was too distraught at having been left behind that I went and had a meaningless fling with Chris Daughtry. Distraught. Daughtry. Hhmm.
Back here at the office, people are obviously still in the process of shifting back to work mode. Me, I’m looking forward to the June 12 long weekend. Should probably do something more active then. I don’t hate my job or anything, but I live for the long weekends.