Pietra mossa non fa muschio

A rolling stone gathers no moss, so my dad tells me when I mention the rut I am happily in. It was a lot of work, actually, developing the habits bums all over the world religiously follow immediately after waking up noonish. The eat, sleep and watch-tv cycle (with a bit of online surfing to suck out any productive hours left) done over and over but never refined felt great after the utter hell of a summer (and college in general) I put myself through.

But now, the break is over. Time to move on (yet again) with an agitated leg shaking, like some sugar loaded crack-head, urging me on.

So here goes, the weeks ahead are planned and cash set aside. I doze off, optimistic, at a civilized hour of 9-ish.

And then I got sick.

5 days of lying in bed, weak, tired, disappointed and sporting an enthralling headache ingrained the slothfulness even deeper.

Recovered and optimistic once more, I rest my weary head on a worn pillow early Sunday night looking forward to the new week ahead and the inevitable accomplishments to follow.

Then I woke up late, and continued waking up (even later) the next few days and before I knew it, the stormy season had settled in. The urge to venture 16kms back to Manila and settle delayed accounts seemed unmusterable.

It's like fate is hampering me, chance is my hindrance.

Among the goals I outlined 2 weeks ago on my phone's "To Do List", none of them ever got finished (although the "upload hell of a lot of pictures" sorta got an impetus) and staring at it now, disappointment settled back in.

But I put down the phone and stared out the window into the rain and I recounted how 2 weeks could have passed by so quickly and shortly found my satisfactory answer.

Spending more time with my friends, grooming for a healthier approach to life, sorting out stuff at home and resting my nerves, I think my time was well spent.

And just to push things over the top, I spent most of those days with a certain bloke that dances and enjoys mcdo food too much.

If there was any better way to start the rainy season, it'd have to involve heaven and a solid gold toilet.

Happiness, as my dad understood the proverb, sorta just rolls along once you start. Cumulatively, in this case.