little mountain

with beatles playing in the background, my son snoring lightly on our bed and the temperature taking us below zero... that pile of laundry could sure give me some needed warmth. i just have to fold the stuff, anyway.

after a draining saturday night, i'm not sure i want to do anything. how is it that you can pour yourself into these affairs and hope to be charged no matter what, only to end up feeling helplessly low and out?

i've finished snooping into the lives of others via their blogs. something's brewing over in justice's world, so soon after her idyllic honeymoon. i feel for the woman. talk about beleaguered!

if i could climb every mountain and search every byway, i would be a much better homemaker and disciplined student. in every aspect. back in the mists of my memory is a blind masseuse who sees into people's souls with her deft fingers. i can still remember her neatly tied hair and soft voice telling me about how her baby was killed while she was cooking. she did not see her older child push the infant to its death. (duh, bulag nga diba? ay anovayan svelte...) and how her womanising husband left her when he found out, and not without blaming her first for their child's death. in her last massages was a deep and scalding sadness that lingered on my limbs long after the oils had settled into my skin.

it's one of those unmoving sundays. if i stepped out into this sub-zero weather, the mind will freeze over. how the sun doth mock us in these times. if i moved forward into the next days, will something new happen in this life? or will it be this same dread with the tiny claws that cling to the recesses of my molars?

but if i can just scale this mountain of laundry, maybe, just maybe, things will look up.