Sunday lunch was good enough that I stopped pretending I wanted only a small serving. Extra rice, obviously, but also an actual chair, warm food and nobody asking me to check a reservation while I chew. I could feel myself eating slower after the first few bites, which is not how my hotel breaks usually go. Then an aunt made the usual comment about my waist and suddenly I was noticing my stomach against the waistband instead of the food. Annoying how fast that happens. I finished what was on my plate. Later my sister and I walked a little before the ride home, both sleepy and full, arguing about which leftovers Mama had packed for whom.

Chief sent a voice message while I was dealing with a guest who wanted a different room and a different universe, preferably complimentary. I couldn't listen until the jeepney ride home. It was nothing dramatic, just him describing his meal and laughing at something another guy had said, but I smiled so hard the woman beside me probably knew my business. Then I wanted to answer immediately and knew he might already be asleep. That part still gets me, having a conversation in separate pieces when what I want is an ordinary back-and-forth. I recorded my day anyway. Eight minutes, then deleted the last minute because it was mostly me saying I had nothing else to say.

I was planning our Japan trip again, the one the savings are not ready for, and caught myself giving us barely ten minutes to get from one lovely thing to the next. Hotel-supervisor itinerary, very efficient, no enjoyment guaranteed. My sister asked where we would sit down and I had to admit that eating was apparently scheduled while walking. I spend so much time trying to make every peso count that even a daydream starts looking like a shift plan. We picked one neighbourhood and looked at pictures for a while instead. I still saved three possible routes. Apparently I can relax the programme but cannot resist providing optional supporting documents.