Well, ok, my maternal granny's house is just across the road from Sinipsip Elementary School in Buguias, and my father, an Ibanag/Ilocano, whose family migrated from Isabela to Davao/Mindanao encouraged by Apo Marcos' "Far and Away" policy (estangheros encouraged to cultivate the land for pineapple, stealing it from the poor natives) probably had it easy as well.
Aaaaaaanyways, I think it is a source of great shame that my parents don't have any such stories that begin with "I used to walk 1 hour just to.....". My body convulses at the thought of subjecting their grandchildren to the same monumental injustice if I too had no tales that begin with "I used to walk 1 hour just to....."
The rear wheel of my bicycle got punctured by an errant glass shard two days ago.
For two straight nights, I have left the lab at midnight to begin my march, arriving at the mansion deep in the sticks that is my home at 1 am. I have woken up at 9 am to take the opposite journey, again on foot. The two hour commute has eaten up some of my leisure time but I know that my efforts are for the benefit of my future children who will never hang their heads in shame for lack of parental tales of hardship that begin with "I used to walk 1 hour just to...."
HRO Karl Willem and PA/PR Gromit, however, think such martyrdom impractical and immediately dispatched their loyal Praetorians to repair The Nashman's great steed...(Sabi nila katangahan daw ang paglalakad ng isang oras sa hating-gabi lalo't umuulan. Oo nga naman. They don't want me to become like San Lorenzo Ruiz. Pinoys think he is a martyr. We think he is styuuuuuufid, as in super thick. It's only religion, duh. It's the last thing worth dying for!!! Only my religion rewards such utter idiocy with sainthood. )
Soon, the offending hole is located and plugged.
It always feels satisfying plugging a hole. Sometimes, it's known to result in orgasms.