Why I Should Not Cook

I cooked last night. I made spaghetti bolognaise – or tried to. You see, while I regard myself as not entirely unskilled in the kitchen (I cooked for myself regularly last year, and lived to talk about it) I am rather out of practice. The last time I made food (a proper meal, not cereal or toast) was probably more than a month ago – a rather fail meal consisting of chicken, mushrooms and rice. Half of it is still sitting in a Tupperware at the bottom of my freezer, waiting for the mythical day when I will be starving to death with no food in the house (not even that last packet of 2 minute noodles) and no money in my wallet (not even R8,50 for a chicken burger at McDonald’s down the road).
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