I think being in a warm climate, basements are not normally seen as part of a house here in the Philippines. Basements are built in colder climates as cellars where food and drinks are stored. Some use them as laundry room, utility space or a space for the air conditioning system.
When I was younger, I was fascinated with the idea of owning a house with a basement complete with basement flooring colored brown matching yellow lights in the evening and glare of sunlight coming from windows in the morning. As I grow older, the fascination was replaced with fear. Perhaps this was because of the scenes from suspense and thriller movies I had seen. It was usually in basements where victims fall prey or are kept as hostage. It created in me a concept that basements are dangerous places.
Basements give me the creeps. The message they send are claustrophobia, limitations, and control. At present, I am dealing with my fear of many things. To have a basement would not be a good idea. 😦
I am very sure that most of us have a lot of embarrassing moments to share. I had one today.
A wrap-up meeting with one of the bosses was to be conducted. It is where audit findings are to be presented. The meeting was started and the first parts where stated. The boss was frequently looking at me and I dismissed it as one of those gestures of conveying his agreement or disagreement about a matter. Suddenly, he exclaimed lifting his hand almost like pointing to me, ” Your fly is open… your zipper is open!” I was shocked and pulled down the seams of my blouse hastily while everybody was smiling and laughing. The boss added, “You’re distracting me!” The laughter grew louder. I tried to laugh with the group and excused myself. My head felt like it’s swelling. I discovered that I was not able to lock the zipper that is why it went down easily when I sat down. The blouse I was wearing was pulled up when I put the folder board on my stomach.
I returned and the meeting was still on-going, and as if nothing happened. After it was finished for more than hour, I discovered I was not able to jot down anything. I hastened to my room on the second floor and brought my mirror to my CR and re-enacted the whole scenario with my open pants. Shocks! I was wearing a semi-bikini panty! Well, better than no panty at all! 😀 LOL I laughed aloud inside the comfort room.
There will be a longer Lenten vacation this year and it also speaks of summer here in the Philippines. It is the time of the year where we’re thinking of swimming and excursions. If only we have our own pool, we will be worrying only about pool supplies. The reason why I tend to think this way is the hit and miss scouting for the right but cheaper venue.
The photo above shows a beautiful spot for swimming. It looks like it is perfect but it was only in pictures where the venue is appealing. It is more a pond than a swimming pool. The rocks are slippery and there were no warning signs that indicate the deeper part. We were here last year and we were only left with a choice to enjoy and deal with what was at hand. It was a fun day after all.
One can’t blame me for wishing to have my own pool where we can dip anytime we want. On second thought, would that be high maintenance?
Photohunt’s theme for today is SYMBOLIC. For the participants, you can go here to check on the other takes.
The photo above are Philippine jeepneys which is one of the symbols of Filipino creativity. It was once tagged as the “Undisputed King of the Road”. They are also considered as ‘art-on-wheels’ but also the transportation mode for the masa (masses).
Speaking of sandals, and I mean to say womens sandals, they are one of the few things I love. Though I do not have enough dough to have every pair I want, I love to ogle at the pairs of sandals some other women don. I thought I love every piece but I discovered there are sandals that I would not dare have anymore.
Photo courtesy of Oligoville
I do think that with my age, these gladiator sandals would not fit me. I mean, I love sandals, beautiful ones, and I am not really old, but these pieces are not for me.
Photo courtesy of Monstermarketplace
This piece is so lovely to look at and hold but I would not buy it. I am always on the go, and pointed heels are not practical for me.
It was the saddest day riding the LRT that day. I chose not to remember the day. That experience was the sole reason why I always dread to ride the LRT. That time and year, the rail system was not as improved as it is today. It was hotter and older.
I do not know if this happens only in the Philippines but Filipinos that ride this train have that habit of squeezing and bulldozing to get ahead of the rest to be seated first. Respect is not a word known to these commuters even if someone got first in the line, or got early to be the first one in front of the train’s door. One must not be confident and dilly-dally stepping inside immediately once the door opens or he will find that there is no seat available anymore when he’s the one who was first in the line.
I remembered that day I had to ride the LRT. That was my first time. I had to go to some place to attend a seminar via the LRT. I was wearing a pair of sandals. Unexpectedly, the rush of people was sudden and my sandal was caught and I tripped. I was literally thrown inside the train sprawling on the floor, and like waiting for someone to lie spread out there with me. The other pair of sandal was missing at first but thank God I found it. I was too embarrassed to see if everybody was laughing but I managed to search, after finding my composure, if there were indeed a lot of people already laughing. There was none! I did wonder if that was a common scenario inside the train, or the group of people around me were just sneaky concealing the laughter.
Yesterday, I Had to Ride the LRT Again
I had to ride the LRT again. A group work had to be done for a department that is located separately from the main organization. As usual, the people were as notorious as they were several years before. I was not able to get a seat when I was even second in line. Poor me. Filipinos are hospitable they say but I am beginning to doubt it more.
Inside the train, I was able to position myself standing but holding the post. Beside me was a tall man wearing a polo shirt and he looked good in it. As the train moved, my body moved left and right as I was standing sideways. Unfortunately, my nose trailed a smell coming from the polo shirt. It did not smell good. It was like smelling a piece of clothing that was not dried right and probably was damp still when kept inside a drawer or a cabinet. I had to force myself not to move my face to the right. Suddenly, a smaller woman got in and positioned herself beside me. She was chattering and gossipy upon settling herself. It was another unfortunate instance when at some point I smelled something bad. She had not brushed her teeth and mouth, or maybe there’s an illness that was causing the halitosis. I had to force myself again not to move my face to the right this time. All through the ride, the woman was chattering nonstop until the other woman she’s talking to got off UN Avenue. It was not a good morning.