So we have finally managed to crawl away from financial rock bottom, not an easy feat, since both Zuzi and I are blessed with unprivileged backgrounds, uncapitalistically generous hearts and have to teach ourselves everything except how to love our son or how to be hospitable or how to run a blog fueled by despair, and now inflation is, ad portas, knocking at the door.

My storing of Kummerspeck due to several depressions coated with the occasional manic episode and intensified by lacking certain ever more elusive soul warming stimulation will have to come to a welcome end because of soaring food prices. Not to mention the sky rocketing price for the gas to cook the food.

So we will see our savings melt along with the fat on my belly and thighs.

But we will buy less food and I will be able to wear the clothes I wore as a teenager.

Why worry?

The economy turns on you as it inevitably will if all you know is how to sell your time for money?

Go on a diet.

At least you will be fashionable in this age of looks over content.

Maybe a sixpack will get me clicks so I can be sponsored by Calvin Klein.

Probably not.


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