In an attempt to conserve funds, and quell my midnight peckishness without the use of pizza pizza, of which i have eaten so much of these past eight months that i fear i will never be satisfied by it again, i hopped on the Ol'Otrain and scurried out into the world to buy bread. Upon my return, i plopped my still warm, freshly baked bread on top of my minifridge, which serves as my kitchen workspace of sorts in my ever so humble abode. I opened my jam, and peanut butter which were provided to me by my dear mother, and prepared to dig in to a well deserved and simple meal. Now i am rather particular about my bread, only the freshest will do, but when consuming entire loaves before they dry, and crispen is rather inconvenient and unpleasant. I do find though, that the bakery fresh style ages quite well, much better than the bagged, commercial and, this is the crucial part, sliced wonder bread does. In my small residence hovel i am not very well equipped, and i found myself with all of the means and dressings of a fantastic afternoon snack, and.... alas... no tool with which to slice my bread. In desperation i tried the butter knife, and the results of that endeavor are evident in the above photo. And so goes the tragic, and ironic tale, of the ghetto-est peanut butter and jelly sandwich in the world.
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