A Series of Bad Choices

I hope it keeps raining, because it is hot like whoa and I can't write because I'm sweating profusely. It's all I can do to bullet point.

After my whopping one interview this afternoon, I wandered around the area by the Quirino LRT stop and bought a couple of carrots, a fistful of string beans, a head of cabbage, a chunk of squash, and a mango. When the woman saw the flies all over the squash and cut off the ends, I was like, why, how did you know I'm fending off illness? And then I bought deep fried eggs from a street vendor, and hereby deserve everything I contract from this point onward.

Since I don't have interviews this weekend, I feel justified grabbing a backpack and wandering semi-aimlessly north to see the rice terraces in Banaue and the hanging coffins in Sagada. I'm justifying this by telling myself that it's more productive than sitting around the guesthouse reading books that I could read when I get back to Oxford, and politely ignoring the fact that it's less productive than doing interviews. Besides, hanging coffins. That's pretty cool.