Last night, I had a particularly bizarre dream. Picture this: I found myself in the Makati building of my very first job at PeopleSupport, just clocking out. I stepped into an elevator, only to be whisked away to what seemed like the interiors of Home and Beyond. For reasons that remain utterly baffling, I began shopping for window curtains. And then—poof! I woke up. Strange, right?

Today dawned with all the optimism of a rain-soaked Monday. After a mere three hours of sleep, I woke up feeling disoriented, parched, and absolutely starving. Ed had returned from work, so I naturally invited him to breakfast (my breakfast, his dinner). I was craving those glorious 7-Eleven Hot Hot Hot hotdogs and Spicy Seafood Cup Noodles. So, off we went in a tricycle to the 7-Eleven by MRT Cubao, our hearts full of appetizing hope and questionable choices.

But then, we got sidetracked by the alluring steam wafting from a carinderia next door, selling goto. It looked fucking mouthwatering, so we ditched our 7-Eleven plans like a bad habit. Oh, what a mistake that was! The goto turned out to be a gastronomic travesty—unseasoned, watered down, and utterly disappointing. We should’ve known better; 7-Eleven never lets you down.

As if we needed more validation of our poor choices, the patrons of the carinderia were staring at us like we were fucking extraterrestrial beings. I mean, Ed and I were decked out in our well-loved pambahay clothes, complete with holes, and slippers. What about that screamed “intruder”? Weird.

We exited shortly, leaving our food ambitions unfinished.

In other news, I’m still grappling with the eternal question of what the fuck to do with my life. Should I strive for financial gain, or should I plunge back into the depths of academia? Decisions, decisions. You know what? Fuck it. I think I’ll just go back to sleep.