Indulgence of a cheapskate

I opened the fridge and saw that, among the stuff my housemates packed back from a 9-course Chinese lunch yesterday, was some hardened chicken in soy sauce. The soy sauce was frozen into a jelly and shimmered a faint amber under the yellow kitchen light. And due to my upbringing, cultural background and what not, I don't see why this isn't the best food in the world. I could just imagine my parents rejoice in the same way.

The best way to stop feeling guilty is to indulge. My heart gets wrenched and pinched whenever in view of my housemates' spending habits, whenever they bring back exotic fruits, snacks, or in view of the toilet paper disappearing at the rate of 2 rolls per week. I've stopped feeling guilty about feeling bad about these things. After all there's a world of difference between them and I - they shop in Cold Storage and I in mum-style (strictly speaking mum did the shopping, and, well you know my mum. If you do that is); they had workers that clean their family's car and I didn't have no cars to clean with; they didn't come from a country where there had been a proletariat uprise and, well, I did. So I'm just going to stop feeling guilty and celebrate the differences and indulge in being a cheapskate. It feels great!