Have you found yourself in a taut situation when your body and brain simply craves for a good laugh? That all you want is a good stretch of laughter? I’m sure you do. Then the brain keeps on opening a folder of files of some healthy laughs, perhaps of 10 or 15 years ago?
“So? Where’s the marathon DVD of Gods Must Be Crazy and Mr. Bean?” I asked my wife.
“Ay naku, nabubuwisit na ako (This is really pestering me.)” she pingbacked.
Mr. Bean and Nixau have been stacked in a neighbor’s badlands sandstorms probably are all over them now. Wifey has been retrieving those and this good family keeps on promising to return come armageddon time. Welcome to the Neighborhood Irresponsible Borrowers Association. Membership is free unlike the fallen Blockbuster. In lieu of a borrower’s card, airy assurances suffice.
I’m cool-minded and often reasonable; she’s both fiery and reasonable. The moment she steps out of our gate, expect a litany of blazing no-stumbling arguments enough to silence or shame the neighbor on why they should return Gods Must Be Crazy or Mr. Bean. And they are one of our closest, liked neighbors.
“What do you think of us? Morons?”
For a couple of days, she bashed them for being irresponsible borrowers. Beyond her need to laugh, she wanted respect. We want respect even in small transactions. They panicked only to find out those DVDs were lent out by their son to a friend. Welcome to the Neighborhood Irreponsible Association – Timbuktu Chapter.
The day after, we billeted the neighborhood for a simple street mini-party of mango float and bihon and Italian pasta on olive oil and mushroom that all of them had never tasted before. She’s a superb cook! We talked and laughed and ate and forgot for a while Mr. Bean and Nixau. The hearty get-together was equally real as her rage.