Sunday, February 24, 2008 Gil: Waking up is hard to do By Sandy Gil Sunday Dunes
IT'S 8:30 in the morning, Sunday. I just woke up. Thank God, it's Sunday. I can take my lovely time... I dragged myself to the bathroom. Also known as the comfort room... nice name. Then, I sleep-walked to the kitchen. Measured three heaping teaspoons of ground coffee... measured a large amount of water... and brewed wonderfully strong mugs of coffee. One mug to open my right eye; another mug for later to awaken my other eye.
I stared at the coffee brewer as it dripped brown liquid into the coffee jug. I smiled as I took in the initial whiff of that superb aroma. Soon its fragrance permeated the entire house. Nice...
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Suddenly, I was jolted from my Sunday morning stupor as my neighbor's radio blared out Madonna's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." Hmmm... His must be a new radio bought by the salary of his OFW sister who is married to a Japanese. He might have this deep and unrelenting desire to let the Filipino public know about the existence of his brand new radio. Or, perhaps he has never heard of an iPod. But then again, it could perhaps be that he has some debilitating disease that has affected his ears.
-o0o-
It was too early to complain about the shattering music. So I tried to focus on my magnificent mug of freshly brewed coffee. It's Sunday, Sandy, I reminded myself.
As I pulled out a chair, I planned on silencing my thoughts in order to transcend my neighbor's morning Madonna concert. It was then that I caught a glimpse of my feet...
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My feet were wearing old and comfortable rubber slippers. Orange slippers. Talk about loud; these were screaming orange slippers. But my toes were nice and clean. I had found time last week to have my toenails painted. A necessity...
I can't wear closed shoes. My feet die when I wear closed shoes. My feet have this extra bone growth on the side just below the big toes. A deformity, I guess. If I wear closed shoes, it rubs on that extra bone. I tried it once, a long time ago, and it made me feel like a traditional Chinese princess whose feet are bound so that they are not allowed to grow naturally.
Pity my feet! I have no choice but to wear strappy sandals. My feet are as exposed to the entire Filipino nation as my neighbor's new radio is! But then again, it slowly dawned on me that my feet have more reason to be exposed than my neighbor's radio. Sigh.
As I pondered on my feet with the shrieking Madonna in the background, I saw tiny hair strands on the floor...
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By then, my eyes were wide open. I was on my second mug of brewed coffee. Do I have falling hair?
This is serious. I have a neighbor who thinks he lives in an isolated hut in the mountains; I have deformed feet and now, I have falling hair? This is not fair!
You see, I have been sporting a rather short hairstyle since time immemorial. Sometimes, I think my hairstyle is even shorter than men's hairstyles. And short as my hairstyle is, it is not right that I should lose the little hair that I have! My soul protested.
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Calm down, Sandy... Count your blessings. It's Sunday. At least your toes have no in-grown nails. At least your feet look great in strappy sandals. Yes, yes, comfort me some more, I urged myself!
At least your hairstyle does not sport bangs that look like the rigid teeth of a comb. At least your hair moves when the wind blows. And take note, fingers can run through your hair with natural ease -- unlike others whose hair styles seem to be sculpted in cement.
Count your blessings, Sandy!
-o0o-
Madonna is on her nth song... She continues to shriek this lovely Sunday morning. Gosh... waking up is hard to do.
