If I was rich enough people would just give me stuff for free

Times is hard, says Mrs Lovett, but I don’t think I’m quite capable of popping pussies into pies. Not that Mona doesn’t have its fair share of stray cats. . .

It annoys me to have to pinch pennies. I wasn’t exactly raised in a rich household – hell, I wasn’t raised in a middle-income household – but through the benefit of TV, the internet, and my own (rather elevated) social circles, I’ve come to acquire a taste that is far above my means. In Jamaican terms, mi love put mi basket where mi caan reach. Good taste is ridiculously expensive these days. Which is why I hate having to pick my way through supermarket aisles teeming with things I would love to purchase and only emerge with the bare necessities. Mowgli’s life is just not for me.

I remarked to a friend that I was boycotting shopping until I was rich enough to afford the things I wanted. To which she cheerfully added that shopping wasn’t nearly so hard when you had your parents around. She said later on that money was meant to be spent, which can’t be true because I always feel so awful when I spend it. Everyone knows you don’t feel guilty about things you’re supposed  to do.

I suppose the question is really: “Are the things you’re buying worth spending money on?” 

Well, are they?

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