The non-committal nature of my job hunting tactics renders me indefinitely (and not surprisingly) unemployed. Now, when I say I have no money, I mean it in a very literal sense - less than 50p on my card AFTER my 1000 squid student overdraft, 30p mocks my sad, sad purse and a pint glass full of coppers (totalling just over £3) which I am saving in case of an 'emergency'. Despite the implied derision of myself, packed into those two little apostrophes, the word maybe carries a little more weight considering that I ran out of tobacco days ago and have had to make do with leeching the odd death stick off of my boyfriend or sister (who will be home from work in less than one hour...). Those who smoke and don't eat can surely empathise with me there.
By the by, I am left with no choice but to sift through the butter and cheese, part the fields of bread and wilfully push aside the boxes of fish fingers and other such dubiously coloured delights, in order to reach my destination - the predominately empty salad tray. Now, I have no right to complain but big sis can't really cook - she and her boyfriend work full time and thus are fast-food advocates, when funds permit. So in a defence against scurvy, I have started cooking supper and stressing the importance of vegetables. Behold, the staple of my 'Beggars can't be Choosers' recipe colletion. And the neccessity of lowering my taste-buds' standards.
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