Remember the last post where I said I wasn't talkative? Well, scratch that. I will tell you a story that will require utmost verbosity. It is a story of yesterday's end, but for that to be given full perspective, I shall start at the beginning. This may be long, so please prepare a bag of patience.

The day started like any usual day. I brave traffic, reach Makati, and park my car in my usual parking space. I used a big bag today, because I had to stuff so many things in - a bag of Chichacorn from Ilocos, my jacket, and since I was surfing the crimson tide, a newly-opened pack of sanitary napkins (maxi, with wings - if you'd care to know). I then walk to my office, with Eliot playing "Gold Lion" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I realize that I've run out of cash, so I make a stop at the ATM beside our building.

When I get to the office, I turn on my PC and flop my big bag on my desk. I unload the bag of Chichacorn and give it to my boss who happily munches away. I try not to wear the jacket for as long as I can, because it will cover up the nice coral necklace that I was wearing. After reading my mails, we go into an emergency meeting called by the Brand team. This skewers straight into another meeting with the Creatives. We end just in time for lunch. And just in time for a "change" (girls, you know what I mean). Since my stock in the office just ran out (second day, go figure), I place the new pack into my drawer.

We ended lunch early, because the food sucked. While waiting for the next meeting to start, I start to Flickr again. I'm almost over my monthly limit. Demmit. I wish I had a Pro account. So we have another long internal meeting, just before meeting the Client at 5 PM. That goes on until about 7. My brains feel so fried. Having a conversation the P&G way is just so taxing, for some reason. You have to set aside your usual english and uncover this completely new set of vocabulary.

I didn't want to do any major brainwork anymore after that meeting. So I just checked all my mails, released all my work orders, and sorted documents to be filed and shredded. I then blog and talk about my untalkativeness. I also check the recent activity on my Flickr. Chips calls and prods me to go home instead of killing time on the internet. My parking meter is running, he says. I finally am convinced and begin to fix my stuff up. I fished inside my big bag for my parking ticket. Now for the keys. Okay... keys will be good to have. I turn my big bag inside out. No keys! Packershet! Panic, panic. Allright. Everything will be fine. I look into every nook of my big bag. I find my eyeliner, eyelash curlers, eyeshadow, tinted moisturizer, Chapstick, lipliner, wallet, coin purse... so far everything is accounted for except for my keys. SHET.

I call Chips. He said to go to the car, and check if it's in there. And also to call my dad for the spare keys. My mom launched into this whole exasperated sermon about forgetting such an important thing. She and my dad will have to bring the duplicate to Makati (and we live in QC!). I meanwhile find a security guard with a strong enough flashlight so we can peer into the heavily tinted car. The keys are NOT THERE. My mom calls again and tells me to get the hell out of the parking lot and go back to the office. It's safer there, she says.

So back I am to the office. I move around all things possible in my cubicle, in hopes of finding the keys. It's strange that I remember everything else about this morning, except details connected to locking the doors and where I placed the keys. After a while, my phone rings. It's my dad. I shut down my computer and fix Eliot into my bag. As I was walking down the corridor, I think that I need to perhaps "change" again. I dismissed the thought because I was heading home anyway.

Ching! Lightbulb moment.

I run back to my cubicle. I pull out my drawer. Grab the pack of maxis with wings. I cannot believe it. There it was, snuggled in between the maxis (they're new, mind you). This is just too... I can't even find a way to describe all of this. Just someone please slap me.