Life without Manet (or monet?)

warcraft. i won!! i won!!

It has been a month and 15 days since manet (or monet) left us. And we are surviving. I have lost a few more pounds for the simple reason that I don’t have breakfast or lunch to wake up to. My usual rice for lunch has been reduced to a cup of the cereal drink Nesvita, the last packet of which was consumed this morning. More often than not, i eat only once a day. My gallbladder must be starting to produce stones. We’ve gone back to eating tuna sardines, tuna kaldereta, tuna afritada, and all other tunas you can name. For dinner, I usually eat at mcdonalds. That saves me the dishes to wash.

Our “kaldero” transforms into a microcosm of organisms of all sorts when our maids run off. Yes, I think we are the only household on this earth without a rice cooker. We have seen cooked rice transform into sweaty rice, into foamy rice, into slimy rice, then into green mush, before we say, “oh, it’s time to wash the kaldero”.

The house is still a mess. Nothing new there. But it’s cleaner now that the maid has gone, surprisingly. The laundry is a different thing. I just spoiled 3 of my favorite G2000 shirts together with my cuz and sis’ clothes. I gave them a new tie-dyed look courtesy of my red shirt. I’ve learned to hang my shirts after donning them for a few hours if only to reuse them days later…err…I’ve read somewhere that they clean themselves if left alone…or not. Only until the smell of the clothes’ conditioner wears of is the shirt due for laundry. That’s my new motto.

Manet (or monet), wherever you are, whatever your future endeavors are, I hope you break a leg. No pun intended.