It is ridiculous but true that only upon reaching my 33 years of age when the attack of the virus hit me. I missed the New Year’s Eve celebration. I missed going to malls, hanging out with friends, reporting to office, and most especially, I missed celebrating my birthday. Despite the visible red scars, I still managed to sneak to malls, watch movies, and dine at food court. Until the shameful experience on the plane, that I was booted off from my seat in the plane on my way to Butuan City. I was admitted in the check in counter without further inquiry on my pink-colored scars but by the time the boarding is clear, I was asked by the flight attendant to secure clearance from the quarantine. The quarantine doctor denied my flight and reschedules me once the scars fully healed. It was a blessing in disguise though because the plane has turned around due to zero visibility in Butuan City.
The downside of being sick and not reporting to office is the exclusion in the payroll which means that I will be broke for the rest of the month. No work no pay is the rule of thumb in my job that time. But of course I can not do anything other than accept the fact that my plan to visit Baguio will be canceled, my bills for the month will be charged as payables.
This was in fact a new year, a new beginning, a record-breaking long period of stay inside my apartment. My first wish that year, and my birthday wish at the same time, was to be disease-free. I told myself the borrowed clusivol tagline,