I could always put lazy cats to shame, but moving out of home changed me… Not an ounce. I adorn the bed, mostly, avoiding any activity that can be useful for mankind.
Food has been a challenge since the first day of moving.
I kept watching videos on YouTube about how to make fancy looking cheese sandwiches, and ended up eating bread butter. Because budget bhi koi चीज़ hai bhai!
With everything tasting similar, I revisit the concepts of fooding world, as to what is what, each day. I gulp whatever is served to me, in quantities sufficient to keep me alive and not kill me of taste poisoning.
With my cheese being finally stolen after two failed attempts, I am afraid to use the refrigerator now. New cheese slices, the jam or the bread, everything lies in a pan full of water in my room. Safe, out of thieves and ants’ reach.
Living in a hostel full of hunger struck females, who mostly finish of the food before I reach to fetch the rice meal – yet another rice meal. That’s not it, they make food mountains on their plate, fearing that the food might get over before their refill. And later throw away the remains of what they couldn’t eat. How mean!
From foodie to survivor, the transition has begun!
Random Rings 