Hello guys greetings to you all in the community, how are you doing today. Welcome to my blog.

## Morning Activities

On Saturday morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. I stirred , a dull ache throbbing behind my eyes, a general malaise clinging to me like a damp sheet.

Being the last Saturday of the month, Akwa Ibom State's monthly sanitation day, a civic duty I usually embraced with a sense of purpose. However, my body felt heavy, resisting the urge to rise.

Just as I was contemplating a strategic retreat back into the depths of sleep, a forceful, insistent knocking rattled my door. GUESS WHO? It was my landlord, his voice booming through the wood, today is sanitation, Mr. Asian! I dragged myself to the door, managing a weak smile. I know, sir, I rasped, but I'm not feeling my best. I'll be out as soon as I gather some strength. He nodded, albeit with a skeptical glint in his eye, and walked away.

Back inside, I offered a quick prayer for renewed energy. Miraculously, a flicker of resolve ignited within me. I pulled on some old clothes and stepped out into the humid morning. The streets were already bustling with activity, neighbors sweeping, raking, and clearing grasses. I grabbed a machete and began to clear the small patch in front of my compound, each stroke a small victory against the lingering sickness.

![IMG_20250531_083522_913.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmRHAuq1gJX3cNwoKi6koPHpT9QmDsHeiwujTp9MoE6CC6/IMG_20250531_083522_913.jpg)

The fresh air, though thick with the scent of damp earth and burning refuse, seemed to invigorate me slightly.

After an hour or so, feeling somewhat accomplished and a little less dreadful, I retreated indoors. A refreshing shower washed away the grime and sweat, and I savored a simple breakfast . Just as I finished, my barber, appeared as if on cue. He gave me a quick, neat trim, and afterward, I washed my freshly cut hair, feeling lighter, almost human again. "Hahaha 🤣," ![IMG_20250525_162219_493.jpg](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmTkZN64Ut4ED9BNmEUZCgWmVASSgQX3mJRBLA7fc53HHr/IMG_20250525_162219_493.jpg)

## Afternoon activities

The afternoon passed in a haze of much needed rest. As at 2:30 PM, the last vestiges of my morning sickness had receded, replaced by a renewed sense of vitality. I met up with Uyaiuyo, her infectious energy always a welcome antidote to any lingering fatigue. We headed to to a Location for video shoot, a low budget project for content creators group.

My role was that of a husband, returning home to find his wife, played by Uyaiuyo, with a male nail technician.

![Screenshot_20250604-213712.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmSXLXjYjL6SNaZuGUnubPt1hjChhN5ELQkojLwcCakzFy/Screenshot_20250604-213712.png)

![Screenshot_20250604-213749.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmb9iJPEJNgDAgyUx5gJ28Ht2NZrZdiBPu6jvWTmbjBPVP/Screenshot_20250604-213749.png)

The scene called for me to react with possessive anger, a dramatic outburst designed to create tension. As I walked onto the set, the 'nail technician' was already there, a young man intently filing Uyaiuyo’s nails.

![Screenshot_20250604-214019.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmYs2nykiX9jJVXaCyDetPAJ7Mn7JMTZYQAfdtDt9ZeFRS/Screenshot_20250604-214019.png)

They were seated quite close, their eyes looked each other in conspiratorial proximity, and despite knowing it was all for the camera, a surprising flicker of discomfort sparked within me. ![Screenshot_20250604-213732.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmbRbC8iHdbDxg9Qsyu2GmWkYVBK3ABuuBE6v78iDcYVJn/Screenshot_20250604-213732.png)

"Are you comfortable with their sitting position?" the director whispered, nudging me towards my mark. I shook my head, my stage anger easily morphing into something more genuine. "No" I muttered, my voice dropping to a low growl, "I'm not. This isn't right." I glared at the young man, the lines blurring between character and reality.

![Screenshot_20250604-213858.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmYtrFHTno1NhddQ5qzXMnzip2djTfVXgj28gCZU1K8SaA/Screenshot_20250604-213858.png)

"If you value your life," I snarled, improvising slightly, "when I go inside this house, I don't want to come out and see you still here, or I'll kill you!"

The young actor, perhaps caught off guard by my intensity, stammered, "I'm just doing my work." ![Screenshot_20250604-214001.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmYx7ePgDinsBBt4XgmyCcQZ3m9Eh4oZGRzHquG3ecxtZ3/Screenshot_20250604-214001.png)

Uyaiuyo, ever the professional, chimed in, "Darling, I'm just looking good for you " But the red mist had descended. I stomped inside, grabbed a prop machete, and burst back out. ![Screenshot_20250604-214158.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmdnuhmwrSavML2HeReVacnRknJBJDfh6E9zuB1BkDWyN6/Screenshot_20250604-214158.png)

The 'nail technician,' seeing my ferocious expression and the glint of the fake blade, let out a yelp and bolted, the scene wrapping up in a flurry of laughter and applause. ![Screenshot_20250604-224647.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmWqBnFfR1FQ4HNH4HXan4EQiPVez53F3vJiSVFSy1TEXA/Screenshot_20250604-224647.png)

By 7:14 PM, the shoot was done. I headed home, still feeling the lingering adrenaline from the dramatic scene. The earlier sickness, combined with the day's events, had drained me completely. Though hunger gnawed at me, the thought of food was unappealing. I freshened up, crawled into bed, and fell asleep instantly, the day's bizarre blend of reality and performance echoing in my mind.

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