It was in the middle of a wet market, between the shrimps and the crabs, where I found the reason why I have been too much of a clock watcher lately.It’s not really the deadlines—I thrive on them—or the appointments. It’s being there, in that wretched place where I’d never be if Ate Vi (my househelp of three decades) were around. She has been on vacation for the past two weeks and won’t be back till another five days! The job of marketing fell on . . . who else but me?
Everything in that space was simply over my head. I could stand with my empty basket beside the milk fish and tuna for hours and not know what to do. I have nothing against marketing. I think it is a very noble undertaking. But it has everything against me!
“Did you want your fish cut into pieces, or would you like me to scale them?” the vendor asked.
Huh?
I headed to the vegetable section. As I stared at the onions (white? red? green?), confident hands of veteran shoppers darted in and out of the baskets, knowing their onions by heart—what color and what size.
And now I have too little time to pack for my early flight to Bohol tomorrow. And I still haven’t finalized my slides!
And I am squandering whatever time I have left whining on this post!
Ta-ta! I will be back in six days (there is no internet where I am going). By that time, Ate Vi should be here and I will have all the time to blog again.
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