Broke Bag
I decided to a little bit of exploring before going home today, so I had dinner at KFC near Mind Museum. See, I am always on the prowl for restaurants or cafés that can double as working spaces if needed (i.e. when you're sick and tired of working at the office). You know, places that are quiet with just the right amount of chatter to keep my mind stimulated (LOL), ample space, and if the place is really, really good, outlets and free Wi-Fi. I don't go around BGC much, and only a handful of the establishments I've been to near my office satisfy these criteria (mostly in Bonifacio High Street), and so I've been looking.
(Thus, on my "must-visit" list next time around: next-door Toast Box. Place was empty tonight, a really good sign in my book. Looks homey, too.)
So, true, while KFC definitely screams fastfood, this particular branch happens to have a little corner that could pass as a working space. So yeah, I managed to type out a few paragraphs in between bites of my Original Recipe chicken before going home.
But not before the strap of my satchel broke.
I was paying for my meal when the strap snapped, whipped against the counter, and threatened to flip over my tray that was just nearly filled to the brim. I had a heart attack for around one second, fearful of the embarassing scene I could have caused if sh*t like that did happen.
Thankfully, nothing spilled, and a kind server offered to carry my tray while I rearranged my bag and took off the damaged strap. Whew.
I wonder why it broke though. Could be because of the sheer weight I've been carrying around for quite some time now. Moreover: tao nga, nagbebreak, strap pa ng bag.
(Thus, on my "must-visit" list next time around: next-door Toast Box. Place was empty tonight, a really good sign in my book. Looks homey, too.)
So, true, while KFC definitely screams fastfood, this particular branch happens to have a little corner that could pass as a working space. So yeah, I managed to type out a few paragraphs in between bites of my Original Recipe chicken before going home.
But not before the strap of my satchel broke.
I was paying for my meal when the strap snapped, whipped against the counter, and threatened to flip over my tray that was just nearly filled to the brim. I had a heart attack for around one second, fearful of the embarassing scene I could have caused if sh*t like that did happen.
Thankfully, nothing spilled, and a kind server offered to carry my tray while I rearranged my bag and took off the damaged strap. Whew.
I wonder why it broke though. Could be because of the sheer weight I've been carrying around for quite some time now. Moreover: tao nga, nagbebreak, strap pa ng bag.