dear murphy's law--

--we can reach a truce now. Please, can we reach a truce now?

(cut for a timeline of things going wrong. LOL.)



1. It's 4 a.m. I am waiting outside the old domestic airport in my company jacket for the man who had kindly accommodated our boxes as excess baggage on their flight to Batanes today. I have five boxes in the company truck, waiting to be shipped.

2. It's 4:30 a.m. The man alights from a Park and Fly shuttle. I shake his hand - he reminds me of my dad: standard black jacket, button-down polo, jeans. He comes out with his wife and four kids. I turn over the boxes. I haven't had sleep. I didn't trust myself to get up so early after having turned in so late. I wait around for something to go wrong.

3. It's 4:45 a.m. Through the clear windows of the Departure Bay I see them going through checks smoothly, the porter helping them along. I go back to the company truck and tell the driver it's time to go home.

4. It's 5:15 a.m. The paper's correspondent in Batanes tells me that it's chilly where she is; that she's likely to put on gloves when she comes out later. I tell her the next time I'm stepping into that airport, it will be me who's going to Batanes. She says she can't wait to host me. I say maybe someday soon. I reach home and crawl under the covers. Andrea turns to me, sleepily, Hey I thought you weren't going to sleep? I say, I've already gone to the airport. Just like that.

5. It's 9 a.m. I am jolted awake by a phone call. The man says their flight has just been canceled.

6. It's 9:15 a.m. The flight is still canceled. I have to get the boxes back. I have no car. I try to call everyone else to share the grief. Damn, Murphy, we're on strike two already! (Strike 1 being the tarps, but that's another story.) The office gets me one, as long as I'm back in the office by 11:30 a.m. I say, I'm coming over, RIGHT NOW. I put an old shirt on, and grab the company jacket off the back of a chair. Fresh out of bed--who cares. All I'm seeing is boxes, anyway.

7. It's 10:15 a.m. I am in the airport again and it hasn't even been eight hours. The security guard looks at my ID and helps me get the boxes to the company truck. Kuya Benjie helps haul them in. They're pretty light, the boxes -- they're only toys and books. How can it be so hard to send toys and books?

8. It's 11:30 a.m. I am sitting here, writing this outline while eating lunch of leftover Bonchon chicken, courtesy of the girlfriend. Maybe I can still catch some shuteye. I am too tired to wash dishes, but I'm not complaining - damn, this chicken is FINE, and god, we are only seven days away from D-Day and every thing that can go wrong... oh, LOL.

Universe, I have no idea what the big picture is, but I'm kind of really running out of time. I could use a few things that'd go as expected. Thanks.

Love,
Me.

REST-OF-THE-DAY EDIT:

9. It's 2:30 p.m. and I am back in the office helping pack things. I've slept a bit/had lunch, hence am good to go. When I reach the library it's like an LBC branch/evacuation center on red alert with all these boxes and piles of books. Batanes is just one of 25. As always, my boss is here on her day-off. Just when I think I've run out of strength, just seeing the tirelessness of these people gives me a sort of second wind. The miracle tarps have arrived -- all 12 of them, in all their super-rushed glory. So yeah, some things have gone our way, yes. Thank God for small mercies.

10. It's 4 p.m. and I am informed by our correspondent in Batanes that she has found somebody else to help us with the shipment. She tells me we can forward the boxes to his house in Sampaloc. I wonder if there's an available service car.

11. It's 4:30 p.m. and the big boss who's in control of the only service car around has just given me the go signal to use it. Off to Sampaloc we go.

12. It's 5:15 p.m. and we are here in front of Option 2's house in Sampaloc. We help them haul up the four boxes through EIGHT FLIGHTS OF STAIRS. What a work out.

13. It's 6:30 p.m. and we're back in the home base. The boxes are looking good. I discover a slight mix-up in shirt sizes but I really am beyond caring. Fuck it, this is going off the ground ASAP, and we are going to pull this off next Saturday successfully.

14. It's 7:30 p.m. and I am back at home. BRB slipping into a coma in 3..2..