Farewell to my caregiver/helper, Teri, who has been taking care of me since I moved to the Philippines in May 2018. Yesterday was her final day in my employ, as she is moving back home to Manila to care for her elderly parents (heh, I wonder if they are younger than me).

She joined us for a final meal at Sit-n-Bull, then caught a Jeepney to Olongapo and a bus ride to Manila.

Swan and I had some sorrow-drowning drinks at Wet Spot, then headed back home. The replacement housekeeper we anticipated hiring has some medical issues she’s dealing with and is unable to take the job. The search is on, but I’m letting Swan handle that.

I’ve traveled on to June of 2012 in the LTG archives, and in this post, I talk about my return to the USA after a six-month interval in Korea. I couldn’t help but feel sad seeing the family life I’ve now left behind, but at least both of my kids took a minute to send me happy birthday wishes.

In today’s YouTube video, the vlogger talks about the shit he got from friends in the States when he announced his intention to move to the Philippines. I was called out by my daughter-in-law about my posts here at LTG (back when my lifestyle was admittedly more sordid), and now I’ve been ghosted. It hurts, but people show what you mean to them, so you just accept it and move on. I was there to raise my kids after their mother abandoned us, and I’m proud of my days as a dutiful father, whether they appreciate it or not. Life goes on.

Let’s the cleanse the palate:

When a woman walked into the pharmacy, her strides were purposeful, and her gaze fixed firmly on the pharmacist behind the counter. Without hesitation, she leaned in and said in an even, unwavering voice, “I need to buy some cyanide.”

The pharmacist froze, startled by the blunt request. “Excuse me?” he stammered. “Why would you possibly need cyanide?”

“To poison my husband,” she replied matter-of-factly.

His jaw nearly hit the counter. “What? Are you insane? Ma’am, I can’t just sell you cyanide! That’s illegal! If I did, I’d lose my license, we’d both go to jail—you do realize that, don’t you? Absolutely not! You can’t have any cyanide!”

The woman let out a long, exasperated sigh and reached into her handbag. Wordlessly, she retrieved a photograph and placed it on the counter. The picture clearly showed her husband in bed—with the pharmacist’s wife.

The pharmacist’s face drained of color as he stared at the damning evidence. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Finally, he cleared his throat and pushed the photo back toward her with a newfound air of calm.

“Well,” he said, his tone carefully measured, “you didn’t mention you had a prescription. That’s a different story.”

A revenge fuck might also be in the cards.

So, yesterday was all about recovering from the turning seventy event and the sad goodbye. Today is all about getting back to normal, so I’d best get back at it. Until then, just remember: