Eight days a week

Another rainy day. It’s all that bitch Ester’s fault. Apparently.

From my breakfast perch at the Treasure Island outdoor bar. The rain is bad enough, but when accompanied by blustery winds there’s just no escaping it. Umbrellas are useless at that point.

Even the sea is angry about the incessant rains…

But in the grand scheme of things I’m in no position to complain. It could always be worse, and for some it is.

I walked in the rain (like I had a choice) to the Our Lady of Lourdes hospital and got the last of my stitches removed. I guess we can consider the subject of that wound closed. Ahem.

As much to get out of the rain on the walk back as anything else, I popped into a beauty shop for a little pampering…

Pedicure baby! For six bucks, including tip. Compare to Korea where it was $25 on base, and $40 off. Some things are definitely cheaper here. Including the beer, which in my case is a an especially good thing.

So anyway, the shop fronts the national highway and this stupid cat decided to try and cross the road. Halfway across he recognized his peril and tried to retreat. Sadly, he didn’t make it. It appeared he died pretty quickly, just a few twitches and jerks then just laying there in the middle of the road for the traffic to dodge the corpse. It was a real cat-tastrophe. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. And I did refrain from taking a picture. After awhile a trike driver stopped and retrieved the body out of the road. I really respected him for doing that.

After my foot spa was done, I hoofed over to the new house. There was a guy in there painting the baseboards and I was surprised at the progress made in the kitchen. So provided I can get the power turned on on Monday (today’s a holiday here) I might actually be able to move in. The gate guard told me that the CATV folks can’t install without electricity, so I guess everything is riding on that. We shall see.

The landlord hasn’t called me, but he did call my contact in Manila (Gem) and told her he’d been sick and would not be coming today. The prick still hasn’t bothered to respond to any of my messages or call me direct. Anyway, I can report some progress so there’s that.

What was I doing 30 years ago?

Enjoying some fucking sunshine and looking pretty in pink, thank you very much. I definitely had the Tom Selleck/Magnum P.I. thing going back then!

And in my home bar of Alley Cats I found these words to ponder:

All I can say is I’m funny when you are drunk!

Today I’ll make my debut appearance in the Friday dart league. I prefer to play darts in shoes, but since I have to wade through water everywhere I go, that won’t be possible. And my sandals and flip-flops are wreaking havoc on my feet. The combination of wet leather and wet skin seems to be a recipe for chaffing and blistering.

Oh well. First world problems and all that. Although I guess technically that qualifies as a third world problem, right?

3 thoughts on “Eight days a week

  1. “After awhile a trike driver stopped and retrieved the body out of the road. I really respected him for doing that.”

    I hope Kitty ended up at a good restaurant. Wouldn’t want all that fresh meat to go to waste!

    Switching gears: might this link be of help? And after you read that, maybe take a look at this. The second link contradicts some of what’s said at the first link, and both links contain material that isn’t relevant to your situation. You’ll have to sort the wheat from the chaff, I’m afraid.

  2. Thanks for the links, Kevin. To me, rain gear is pointless here…you’d get just as wet from sweat. Now, maybe I need to get me some different footwear, crocs or some such shit. My sandals and flip flops are not working out as waders….

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