Confetti? Or how about some fireworks? I am so in the mood of making a big deal out of this minor development in my driving practice. Haha.
But this is actually a rare time. Because I don’t really like going past the maze of traffic, which is so typical of streets leading to the mall. I hate it. But what else can I do if I live in a country boasting of mad speed-freak drivers?
And so goes my reason why I don’t volunteer driving to the mall.
But then, I couldn’t forever be sitting pretty in the passenger seat and let someone take the wheel and sweat it through the traffic.
Nor let my father bring us –or me- to the mall forever. That would just be too preposterous bordering to being illogical.