Scott admittedly had the kind of weekend that would make the Barefoot Investor lose sleep. Not only did he not lay one finger on a home cooking utensil but he raided his ING savings account several times to rack up a respectable 10 food deliveries since Friday night.
Now, his filthy den is littered with the brown paper bags of fiscal irresponsibility. Each room he trudges through is another painful reminder that a gastro ward is beating him in the shit-togetherness stakes.
His sink is full of sauced-up plastic containers and he has enough napkins to meet the needs of a puberty-ridden boarding dorm for some years. Is it his lowest point?
Well, that’s a matter of debate. One might suggest the half-finished beer sitting on a ledge next to his toilet is, however, Scott would disagree, telling The Times,
“At least that toilet beer reminds me that I actually had some fun this weekend. Do you know what’s not fun? UberEATS, why is everything you order like 25 bucks or more these days. Man, I’m down serious coin”
Too hungover to clean up the mess, Scott has no choice but to aimlessly watch reruns of a show he’s seen 100 times while he stares at the grease-stained paper reasons he’s still living with a housemate.
Scott’s housemate told The Times he was shocked when Scott racked up 4 separate orders on Sunday alone, adding
“Maccas for brekkie, Red Rooster for lunch, and 2 Pad Thais for dinner. Then he actually ordered snacks from IGA. How much of a sack of shit is he? And yeah, before you ask, smashing that much fast food in the day hasn’t done wonders for our apartments aroma”
Of course, every act of self-loathing has a silver lining. Scott was eventually able to muster a fraction of a smile knowing that one day, he can use those UberEATS bags to put all his empty beer cans into and finally reclaim his bedroom side table.
“Life is about contrast I guess. Yeah, I hate myself at the moment but I feel next weekend will be the weekend I blossom. Cook all meals at home, lay off the sauce, and maybe even wash my bed sheets”
Naturally, these are just the desperate promises a man tells himself when he’s looking at the bottom of his 3rd bottle of Maximus.
Or as his housemate puts it, “it benefits Scott to live in a sort of fantasy world because if he really accepted the reality of what he’s done this weekend, it’d crush him completely. He’s just too fragile for that right now”
Delivered food for thought.
