Yesterday, I took Bill to the casa* for a PMS and I remember having this kind of conversation with a friend:

How many hair disasters will it take for me to stop messing with my hair?

I've seen quite a number of posts from different bloggers where they show contents of their bag. I got intrigued with my own and decided to spill goo too. And also, this was suggested by a dear reader. :)

I know I've been yapping non-stop about Bill. Well, this is my blog and I will write whatever the hell I want to write since I don't have the nerve to speak elsewhere. You see, I've never posted about Bill on social media. Nobody else on my friends list, aside from a few close friends and those who have actually seen me, knows about Bill.

You see, in social media, everybody can inadvertently see what you have posted. But if you blog, nobody knows what you're up to until they visit and actually read your blog. Here, you enter at your own risk. If my stories get me loyal readers, great! I really appreciate that. If it loses me readers and rakes in haters, I'm not really concerned.

Today, I planned on writing a blog post where I tell the world how we had a pretty amazing out-of-town weekend but all that's going through my mind is Bill.

I think I'm obsessed. Not that I'm trying to learn about cars and how it works because I couldn't even get myself to read all the hundred pages of the manual. The word transmission already scares me, much more when introduced to alien words such fuel injection, ignition, or piston. All the mechanic's tips and instructions after the first Preventive Maintenance Schedule (PMS) just slipped through my mind because the brain stopped working the moment I saw the bill, realizing how expensive car maintenance is despite free labor.

I wasn't really a big fan of souvenirs. When Jan and I traveled far and wide, we didn't bring anything home with us but pictures and memories until our first trip in Boracay (emphasis on the word first because we're going back there soon and I hope I'm not jinxing it by prematurely announcing it. lol).

Fridge magnets were everywhere there and they were cheap (around Php 50). Which, I supposed, triggered that fridge magnet nut case in me when a thought occurred that a fridge magnet from every destination might be a good idea. So we bought 3 magnets (for Jan's home, for my parents' home, and our future home). And the rest, as they say, is history.