She took out all of her books and checked each one if her past-self dog-eared any pages which meant a homework was supposed to be done. A bunch of papers crumpled inside her bag (why is it that she’s so against throwing trash from school in school?) and she checked if anything important was written on them. Pens and pencils were inspected and sharpened; and then, she got to work.
The house smelled like tuyo and she’s willing to bet that the next thing hitting the pan would be scrambled eggs with tomatoes. May it be sinangag and leftover sinigang from last night (a deadly and delicious combo) or suman rolled in sugar or even just tustadong pandesal dipped in coffee – weekend breakfasts are always the best.
Stevie Wonder blasting from the living room component meant it’s a Sunday morning. Her muscles ached from the general cleaning that happened yesterday – bathroom floor scrubbed clean, bookshelves rearranged and dusted, and closets cleaned out and organized. She burrowed further under the covers, repositioning her feet away from the patch of bed warmed by the sunlight streaming through the window. Can’t just the weekend stay here forever?