To the flatmate who won’t stop eating my food,
Every day is a constant struggle for me. Like most other students, including yourself, I’m constantly caught between being bankrupt and just having enough money to buy a loaf of bread. Yes, obviously I always have the funds for essentials such as a bottle of wine and a bar of chocolate the size of my torso but that is neither here nor there.
Growing up with numerous siblings, I understand the need to share. I’d also consider myself as someone who is quite generous, especially when someone is in need. But even someone with the patience of a Saint (read: me) would be hard done to not lose their temper at how much and how often you abuse my patience.
Take for example, my chocolate bourbons; my favourite biscuit and treat to myself. Firstly, I wouldn’t have minded if you had asked to have a couple. Sure, go on! I wouldn’t even had minded if you had asked to have the packet and replace them when you next go to the shop. We’ve all been there: when you need an entire packet of biscuits to yourself nothing else will do. But to take the whole packet of my precious bourbons, without a word to me, eat them all and replace the empty packet back in my drawer… that is unforgivable.
Then there was my BBQ chicken pizza. I thought this was safe, what with you being a vegetarian and all but apparently not. I’d woken up, hanging more than Jesus on the cross and stumbled down to the fridge salivating at the thought of it. It would surely be the cure I needed for the horrific hangover I was experiencing. I opened the fridge… to find not one, not two but three slices of my pizza missing. Sorry, was I hallucinating? Were my tired, hung-over eyes deceiving me? How was one measly slice going to cure me of these hellish hunger pains? I crawled back into bed weeping at my loss.
Lastly, my bread. Toast, crisp sandwiches, cheese toasties… Thick white bread is the back bone to this country and something I always have in my drawer. Unless you’re around, of course. When I wake up with half an hour to get ready before I’m due to start my eight hour shift you better believe I plan on shoving two bits of toast in my mouth whilst trying to perfect my winged eyeliner. What I don’t plan on doing, but find myself doing on a regular basis, is finding a singular crust in the bottom of my bread packet whilst the remnants of your breakfast (which included four slices of my bread) remain on the counter next to the toaster.
Were you trying to break my heart? Test my limits? Start a war? Only you can answer these questions.
Sincerely,
An Unknown Sauce
