Living alone, I have enough dinnerware for myself. When a few cousins came and stayed with me for a week, I had to improvise by serving them morning milk in my noodle bowl. They didn’t mind it, though, at least not before we discovered that the milk was passed its expiry date.
And today, I am having cereal dinner with a soup spoon because I am too lazy to go out today or move more than the bare minimum.
I can imagine how Amma will react if she finds out her underweight daughter eating cereal dinner, most probably. She’ll fly the next flight, cook some rice and carrot soup (she believes that carrots are the holy grail of healthy food), and feed me while yelling at me about how am I underweight, how I looked better before, and who will feed me if she has passed away someday. Yada2.
I usually reply saying I prefer to live with my biological parents, how pretty she is, how come I’m not as good looking as she is, then ask her a thousand times whether she loves me or not and that I will definitely buy a new, more fun mom once she is gone *touch wood*.
Hmm, actually, I miss that, well, not the carrot!
Meanwhile, I have trained my friends to never come to my apartment without bringing me a box of Japanese cheesecake from the Bread Talk. So far, they have obliged.
Thank you for reading you guys! I promise to write more and better once I get the hang of this living alone thing, which should be soon since I have been doing it for the past 6 months; well, at least I grocery shop like an adult.