True Tales of a Tin Eater

Secretly, I am ashamed. I watch others eat their meals with knives and forks and feel something of a pang; wishing that I, too, could accept the conventional approach to eating a meal. But it’s too late for me. Years of training mean that I must take the road less travelled and consume my meals, not at the table with a fistful of cutlery, but in the pantry and directly from the jar. For I choose to consume my ingredients not in combination but one at a time. For I am a tin eater, plain and simple.
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The Evolution of the Resolution

Another year is now firmly upon us. Granted, it will take me at least another six weeks before I start denoting the date with a ‘14’ instead of a ‘13’, but I’ll eventually get used to it. It’s a strange habit, but as the old calendar is replaced by the new, people make rash declarations about the year ahead that range from the well meaning to the hopelessly misguided. It’s easy to dismiss them as the inevitable result of a celebration where sobriety is generally the first casualty. But in the spirit of turning over a new leaf, then turning it over again because I preferred it the way it was, I have decided to make some new year’s resolutions of my own.
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