Saturday Owes Me An Apology

Saturday is supposed to be fun.

It’s the day we collectively agree to rest, reset, and pretend we’re not burnt out. It’s the day you look forward to all week. A reward. A gift. A break.

Mine woke up and said, “Absolutely not.”

The day began with a scheduled brownout from 6:00 a.m. to 12:00 p.m., courtesy of Negros Power—because nothing says weekend vibes like no electricity before breakfast. Yesterday was Jenjen’s well-earned day off, and while she’ll be back later today, her absence that morning meant I was temporarily—and unwillingly—promoted to Head of Animal Operations.

This is not a small department.

First, the lorikeets. These tiny, colorful creatures are cute until they miss their Cerelac, at which point they turn into screaming demons with wings. Cerelac must be prepared immediately, with boiling water, or else.

Then there’s Davie—our monkey—who has officially entered his teenage era. He is big, muscular, and strong enough to remind you that you are the weakest mammal in the household. Unlocking his cage already requires fine motor skills, something I currently do not possess thanks to wrist arthritis.

It started to drizzle. Because of course it did.

While I was wrestling with wires and locks, my cat Yaki—who believes I am his emotional support human—followed me. Seeking shelter from the rain, he positioned himself near Davie’s cage.

And that, my friends, was the beginning of the incident.

Despite a metal grid separating them, Davie lunged. Yaki screamed. I screamed internally. I couldn’t tell if Davie was biting the cat or just holding him in a death grip, but either way, Yaki was in clear, hysterical pain.

I ran in, adrenaline fully activated, and tried to pull Yaki away. Unfortunately, Davie is strong. Like gym membership strong. I had to use every ounce of strength I had to separate them. In the process, Yaki—panicking, terrified, and offended—bit my hand.

Hard.

Skin broke. Blood appeared. Saturday officially crossed into medical episode territory.

And yet, after all that, I still finished feeding Davie. Begrudgingly. Because apparently, even trauma has a schedule.

By 8:30 a.m., Melbourne the carpenter arrived with his assistants to replace the tiles that caused Ralph’s fall and subsequent surgery. Ralph, still very much recovering, briefly entertained the idea of smashing the tiles himself out of spite. This idea was immediately rejected for safety, sanity, and insurance reasons.

Because of the long brownout and my newly bleeding hand, I decided to shower early so I could go to Ayala Medical City for a tetanus shot.

This is when the generator entered the story.

Despite clear instructions given to our electrician to exclude the water heater from the generator line, the heater was—surprise—still connected. The moment I turned it on, the 7.5 kVA generator shut down like it had simply had enough of us.

No power. No hot water. Carpenter already present. Brownout ongoing. Hand throbbing. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.

So instead of going to get the tetanus shot—because of course—we had to bring the generator to Ingco Tools, where we bought it last November, to have it checked. I know it’s still under warranty. At least one thing in this story should be.

I tried getting Ken to come and drive us, but he said he was going to be busy the entire day. Entire. Day. On a Saturday. Must be nice.

Jenjen, who was back around 10am, ended up asking our neighbor if we could temporarily hire someone to drive us to Ingco instead—because Ralph still has no clearance from his doctor to drive, and apparently, this household is now fully dependent on the availability of other human beings just to leave the house.

At this point, the tetanus shot was officially postponed. The bleeding hand? Secondary. The generator? Priority. Because without it, we weren’t just having a bad day—we were having a non-functional one.

And somehow, the clock was still moving forward like this was all perfectly normal.

So we got Atoy. He lives just across the street. At this point, he was officially part of the Saturday cast.

He drove us to Ingco. We arrived 40 minutes early—because of course we did—only to realize they were closed for lunch break. When they finally opened, I learned something that honestly felt personal.

Only Ingco-branded items have a six-month warranty.
The generator we bought? Farukon.
Warranty? One month.

One. Month.

Oh. My. God.

The technician was there, though, and after checking things out, they asked us to leave the generator with them because it needed to be thoroughly inspected. So we left Ingco without the generator. No power backup. No guarantees. Just vibes.

When we got home, however—plot twist—the power was back on.

And honestly? That part felt like a small mercy. Not a win. Just… relief.

Later, I paid Atoy and attempted one last thing—calling Ken to see if he could spare some time to help his injured, exhausted mother get medical care. Miraculously, he agreed.

He drove me to Ayala Medical City, where I finally received my tetanus shot and was assessed by a doctor. The verdict? I should also take anti-rabies shots. The same ones Ralph had after being bitten by Cali.

At this point, I just nodded. Sure. Add it to the list.

As I’m typing this, the power has just come back on—after another brownout at around 7:00 p.m. Yes, there was a sequel.

The rain had stopped, but because the construction isn’t finished, our room flooded. Melbourne, our carpenter, helped push the water out and set up a temporary barrier at the doorway. It’s not pretty, but it’s functional. He assured us that once the tiles and awning are done, this won’t happen again.

Tomorrow will be better, allegedly.

Today?
I’m in pain.
I’m exhausted.
I’m patched up.
I’m done.

So yes—this was my Saturday.
No brunch. No rest. Just chaos, injections, flooding, and character development.
I would like my weekend refund now.