every
thursday, i wake up earlier than usual. it is not so much of the
desire, rather, of necessity because my car is color coded. and until
Switters came, i so hate thursdays. you would understand, i know;
especially in days like today when there is an unmistakably
Christmas-tic blow in the wind and the blanket stays comfortably warm.

and
then Switters came. i still hate thursdays; but it is just the waking
part of it that i hate. i look forward to the one-hour meeting at
petron stop over station along SLEX; i look forward to the aroma of the
starbucks hot chocolate or the pancakes at pancake house or the
longganisa at Mcdo. and the time with Switters.

you
know him already. he’s thirty five and he’s amazing; and you know how i
am with amazing guys, i just cannot resist them. if you meet him, you
would not be able to. particularly today, he talked to me about neutral
angels and getting drunk with excommunicated nuns in the desert outside
Syria. sometimes, i cannot dig Switters but it is of that fact that i
so love him. he talked about Domino, too. a lady ten years his senior
and whom he is very fond of. i fancy he might have loved her but with
switters, that is all you can do: fancy. i fancy he does not even know
what love means as it meant to all of us. wait until you watch him talk
about it. i fancy you’ll drool over his logic.

i
remember a few thursdays ago, he told me, “three things are certain:
there’s life, there’s death. and in between, there’s maintenance.”