*Actually this has no point. I just wanted to talk about food.
Actually, I don't have a house. I live in a flat. An apartment. With my family. Because I'm too young to move out (I bet my mother wants me out. I bet she's sick of me stealing all the food). It's a 'house' because all homes over here are apartments, unless you're talking about condominiums (glorified flats) or semi-detached or bungalows (a.k.a. normal housing in the west, also too expensive for me).
Uh.
Right.
About the state of cereal in my house.
I generally eat cereal all the time. It's a great snack. You don't need to cook it, you don't need to, uh, cut it. Just pour. Pour. Eat. It's so convenient.
It's so much better than noodles, which can become so much soggy mess if you leave it alone for too long. Besides, I need to wait for the noodles to cook. That's not fun. At all. Wifi doesn't reach that particular corner of the kitchen.
So, I don't like cooking, therefore CEREAL. Honey stars, froot loops, actual nutritious things, etc etc. I don't buy them; my brother does. Or at least he chooses them and my mother pays for them. I don't do that because I don't go outside.
So they come back with their cereal and my brother waves tasty things in front of my face for a few seconds before I chase him off. Two hours later I'm hungry and I remember that bag of cereal he gloated about.
Open, pour, add milk, eat.
Another hour after that and my brother - he's six - stomps into my room and yells about me eating his cereal. I roll my eyes. He eats a bowl of cereal. I continue watching whatever dubious things I watch.
Now, here's where I need to clarify a few things in general. Those bags of cereal? They're huge. Giant packs. Not your average A4 box. And we don't eat cereal for breakfast. We eat cereal like, I don't know, like water? A simplified meal for the lazy?
Okay, back to the situation: I've eaten a bowl, my brother's eaten a bowl, the rest of the cereal's back in the box. And guess what? I eat all the rest of it.
A few days later and my brother drags another box of cereal back.
Actually, I don't have a house. I live in a flat. An apartment. With my family. Because I'm too young to move out (I bet my mother wants me out. I bet she's sick of me stealing all the food). It's a 'house' because all homes over here are apartments, unless you're talking about condominiums (glorified flats) or semi-detached or bungalows (a.k.a. normal housing in the west, also too expensive for me).
Uh.
Right.
About the state of cereal in my house.
I generally eat cereal all the time. It's a great snack. You don't need to cook it, you don't need to, uh, cut it. Just pour. Pour. Eat. It's so convenient.
It's so much better than noodles, which can become so much soggy mess if you leave it alone for too long. Besides, I need to wait for the noodles to cook. That's not fun. At all. Wifi doesn't reach that particular corner of the kitchen.
So, I don't like cooking, therefore CEREAL. Honey stars, froot loops, actual nutritious things, etc etc. I don't buy them; my brother does. Or at least he chooses them and my mother pays for them. I don't do that because I don't go outside.
So they come back with their cereal and my brother waves tasty things in front of my face for a few seconds before I chase him off. Two hours later I'm hungry and I remember that bag of cereal he gloated about.
Open, pour, add milk, eat.
Another hour after that and my brother - he's six - stomps into my room and yells about me eating his cereal. I roll my eyes. He eats a bowl of cereal. I continue watching whatever dubious things I watch.
Now, here's where I need to clarify a few things in general. Those bags of cereal? They're huge. Giant packs. Not your average A4 box. And we don't eat cereal for breakfast. We eat cereal like, I don't know, like water? A simplified meal for the lazy?
Okay, back to the situation: I've eaten a bowl, my brother's eaten a bowl, the rest of the cereal's back in the box. And guess what? I eat all the rest of it.
A few days later and my brother drags another box of cereal back.
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