six / war on chores

	Weezer   Buddy Holly   Weezer (The Blue Album)

Today marks my sixth year as a blogger* as well as my first month with A. Normally, I’d write something snazzy to celebrate but I’m going through this phase where I feel like everything I write is crap. I’ve got about a dozen or so stories all in my mind or on torn up pieces of tissue paper and I can’t seem to make sense of them.

Maybe it’s because I’ve been sick. I haven’t been to work in ages. This stupid mosquito bit me and poof! It became dengue! It’s not the big D I’m worried about though. It’s the boredom that comes with it. I’ve been on reverse isolation for about a week and a half now and I’m about thiiiiis close to exploding from sheer idleness.

And so because I feel like I should post something but at the same time I feel like nothing I write is good enough, I figured I’d dig something up from the old baul. The article I chose is one of the first things I ever wrote with the intention of posting online. I published it in early 2004 when I still had my own website and before I signed up for a Blogger account. I reeeeally want to edit it but I know that would go against the whole activity. It’s all very whiney, self-deprecating and fake-cool which was how everyone wrote in those days.

Anyway, I just spoiled everything with a lengthy disclaimer. Here is my War on Chores.

There should be a law against chores. There should be. I mean it. There should be a law that makes it illegal for suburban homes to be without a maid. I hate chores. They’re messy and you get nothing in return for them. At least the maid gets a monthly check. What do I get? I get calloused hands and the distinct smell of leftovers. I hate chores and I hate people who assign them. They keep me from the more important things that I have to do like… hmm… I dunno… I’ve been doing chores so long I don’t even remember what a normal teenager does in summer!

Chores always upset me and when I’m upset, I eat and get fat. It’s what I do. So basically, the ten pounds that I lost last month is now down to a dwindling five. I got it! That’s what I wanted to do with my summer… concentrate on slimming down.

Do you know that fifteen minutes on a treadmill or a bicycle will burn you about 70-90 calories? I biked briskly in the gym two weeks ago and it burned me 96 calories. I was mighty proud of my accomplishment until I realized I didn’t even burn enough calories for the bag of chips I had for breakfast. 96 friggin’ calories means nothing.

Elections came again and I was assigned another chore. Bring my grandmother to Makati so she can exercise her suffrage. For the record, I never agreed to this arrangement. Next thing I know is people are waking me up to bring Lola there! I didn’t give in and I just slept the whole morning. My sister ended up going. It wasn’t so hard. They rode cabs to and fro and they didn’t have any heavy bags to carry. So I was a bit surprised when my sister came home tired and sleepy. Suddenly, she was exempted from chores! Aaargh! I was so freaking pissed! It just wasn’t fair! What do I get for walking fifty blocks just to deposit Lola’s money or mail Lola’s affidavits? Mind you, Lola’s a very picky person and you have to do things perfectly or you’re doing it again… So, what does she get for helping Lola out. She gets exempted for chores. What do I get for helping Lola out? A shitload more chores. There is just no freaking justice left in the world. And just to prove my point, here’s another story.

It’s no secret I failed trigonometry last semester. Trying to convince them a new school is best for me only terminated the possibility of future attempts. So I needed to accept the fact that I’m going to be an irreg. That’s basically the kiss of death for someone like me who’s unassertive most of the time. So I figured you got the car, might as well drive it. I was going to take some advance courses so that I won’t be soooo behind next few years. But in UST, that’s not even possible. I need to talk to a bunch of people who will then decide if I can do that. So I told my mom last Friday that I needed to go to UST. Guess who didn’t want me to go. Guess who didn’t leave me any money… Clue, she’s my father’s wife… It doesn’t get any simpler than that. Water under the bridge, I said when she got home. So I reminded her this afternoon and she said (and I quote) “There are a lot of more important things that you need to do that go to UST. What makes you so sure they even have office tomorrow? Mag floorwax ka na lang!” So I guess the floor’s future is more important than mine… and for further proof of the world’s injustice and the overabundance of chores… here’s another story, though somewhat unrelated.

I called Bleep’s cellphone last week in the middle of a chore. To my surprise, it wasn’t Bleep who answered but someone else who sounded like they were just waking up. Complete with yawning and stretching sounds. I quickly hung up and repeatedly told myself it was the wrong number. Several days later, Bleep calls me up. “Listen, I was checking my ‘Received Calls’ and saw this number. I don’t remember you calling me so may I ask who this is?” Bleep doesn’t know my number. That was the beauty of everything. Everything was casual, no strings attached unless I wanted them to be. But now I guess Bleep’s moved on. I faked (with expertise) a probinsyano accent and said “Sorry piru sari-sari store lang pu tu i kaya de ko talaga alam kong seno ang tomawag jan. Pusibleng kahit seno kasi madami naman nakeketawag deto eh” which was quite a change from my greeting (Good Morning, Hello!). There is no justice in the world and when I hung up, guess what was right there waiting for me… chores!