Millie, the Food Bandit: A Kitchen Caper and a Blind Man’s Scathing Review

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Alright folks, gather ’round, because it’s story time! This one’s got drama, disrespect, misplaced motherly instincts, and a side of delicious passive-aggressiveness.  But first, a word from your not-so-friendly neighborhood blind blogger – if you’re new here, let me catch you up.  I’m blind, my fiancé’s blind, our dog (bless her furry soul) thankfully has her eyesight intact. Got it? Because that context is kinda important.

 

Let’s rewind to February 29th, 2024. Moving day was on the horizon, and to celebrate (or survive, depending on how you view packing), my fiancé whipped up a feast for the ages – baked chicken, rice, potatoes, the whole delicious shebang. It smelled heavenly and tasted even better.  Now, we shared a communal kitchen in our old apartment building, and long story short, not everyone in that building was blessed with basic manners.

 

Picture this: I’m happily enjoying my dinner upstairs, while my fiancé shares some with our kid downstairs. Leftovers were my main motivation, as we were downsizing our food budget with the move. I step out for a quick doggy break, and upon my return, what do I find?  Millie, our resident overzealous caretaker, playing Robin Hood with my chicken dinner. Apparently, she decided my food was better suited to her 450-pound whale of a friend, Tim, resident mooch extraordinaire. And Tim, the grown adult that he is, happily lets this happen.

 

See, Millie knew damn well I wouldn’t have stood for this if I was there. So, she waited for my back to be turned, showing a total lack of respect for me, my fiancé, and honestly, the sanctity of leftover chicken. Oh, and her misguided attempt at mothering Tim (who already has a perfectly capable girlfriend in Natasha) was a slap in the face to my dog and her church.  Did she apologize? Nope. Others downplayed it as “just taking some food”. I call it stealing, and my inner medieval judge is itching to dole out some hand-chopping justice.

 

It’s this kind of audacity that gets my blood boiling. Millie and her lot have never experienced real hunger, yet they feel entitled to allow the dishing out, and eating of our carefully-portioned meals.  Tim, you have your own food downstairs – eat it!

 

Honestly, I always suspected Millie had a serious case of self-righteousness, and this just confirmed it. Forget moving away, I want her shipped off to a deserted island where the only food source is expired cauliflower.

 

To all you sighted folks out there: being blind doesn’t make us charity cases. Don’t steal our food, and don’t treat us like perpetual children.  It’s really not that complicated.  And if you’re feeling defensive right now… well, that’s probably a you problem.

 

Millie, honey, I hold zero grudges (that’s a blatant lie), but next time you want to play mother hen, buy your own damn chicken. As for your 2024, may it be filled with minor inconveniences. Burnt toast, lost socks, stubbed toes, maybe a swarm of those buzzing flies that just won’t leave you alone. Petty? Absolutely.

 

Kirk, I still love you, you big softie. Tim, you majorly disappointed me, dude. I cared about you, and now I’m rethinking everything. And Natasha, I get that you love Tim, but enabling his overeating by condoning Millie’s food thievery ain’t the way to win my trust back.

 

Oh, and whoever stole my Bose speaker? I hope your ears bleed eternally.

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