The Not-so-Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe(box)

I've been in the (two-month-long) process of moving to a new condo. It's been taking me so long to actually move into the unit, not just because I've been reluctant to cut the umbilical cord that apparently attaches me to my brother John (despite us not having a parent-child relationship), but also because the place is so tiny; microscopic even. That means I've been having trouble fitting all my stuff in it. I'd thought it would be easier because I've purged a lot of my things. I sold off and gave away a lot of things when I left the Philippines two years ago, then I sold off and gave away even more stuff when I left Columbia. However, it seems that "stuff" just multiplies when you are not looking. Kind of like partner-less socks in your drawer. Or fat cells on your inner thighs.

Anyway, the place seems to be the smallest place I've ever lived in (and I've stayed in pretty tiny condos). But aside from its lack of floor space, there are a couple of things that I've found that are hampering the enjoyment I usually experience when I move into a new place (lack of size notwithstanding). First, since I do not have an airconditioner yet, there is a gaping hole in my wall that leaves me vulnerable to the elements, both natural and criminal. Second, I have discovered first-hand the process of choosing the audience for the game show Wowowee. You see, I live right across ABS-CBN, which would not have been so bad in itself. What IS quite alarming is that the people who want a chance to be a part of the audience of this show line up the evening before outside the station, RIGHT ACROSS my condo. In fact, I came across some of them camping out and sleeping one night on the parking space I had hoped to get for myself.

Going back to the process of audience-choosing... Around seven in the morning, someone using a very powerful loudspeaker announces the names of the lucky people chosen to be audience members. Now, the voice of the announcer would have penetrated any wall of the average Filipino home. However, there is that matter of the gaping hole in my wall, which lets in pretty much all the sounds from outside (including occasional drunken conversations of the cigarette vendor downstairs having drinks with his cohorts). When the announcer reads out the names and cracks jokes to break the monotony, his voice is so loud it feels like I'm standing in line down there with everyone else. Also, this all happens too early in the morning, when it is particularly unpleasant and jarring to be shouted at by someone.

So right now, I am kept busy trying to improve my condo situation. I'm still trying to get rid of some things so I can fit all my worldly possessions into my two-square-meter condo, and I'm on the lookout for an airconditioner that can fit into said gaping hole and solve a multitude of problems. It will stop the rain from getting inside, deter criminals from getting a hold of my worldly possessions, and muffle the announcer's attempts at comedy as he calls out the names of people who spend a whole night on the sidewalk for a chance at watching a gameshow hosted by the biggest buffoon ever to grace Philippine television.