You don't have a TV anymore
Because you don't have a TV anymore you don't know who got kicked off the island in "Survivor."
Dinner is for the birds. Literally. Last night you ate popcorn, raisins and nasty zucchini chips.
You miss having a car. And a house. And you regret that you ever griped about either one.
You miss listening to the songs of the seventies (or eighties or nineties) and singing along while you're folding laundry.
You don't have laundry to fold because you don't have clothes anymore that are worth cleaning.
No matter how many 'feeds' you go to you just can't bring yourself to eat whatever that mystery dish is.
You miss the monthly trip to Saks for the facial and massage and waxing and dishing with the masseuse.
You miss the neighbor's cat. The fat one who you fed every day because her owner was stingy with food.
And the number one reason you hate that you are homeless: You hate that you seem to have become downright cynical about the nature of some street puppies and the next time one of them asks you for a cigarette or a quarter, you're going to go bananas.
And you never knew that you could think that way.
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