Breakfasts Three-Hundred-and-Six-and-Seven

Bread, butter and honey.

French toast and bacon.

I wonder whether I haven't been a little remiss in not considering thievery as a money-making option. That's not to say I have a particular talent for it: other than some childhood raids on stores of sugary foodstuffs, my cat burglar potential has gone largely untested. However, what I do know is that I do not look like a thief. I regularly set off shop alarms (I am at a loss as to explain why) and yet no one ever suspects that the alarm going off is anything other than a fluke. I simply have to shrug my shoulders and move to open my bag before I am waved on by a security guard. Maybe it's the hair. Perhaps curly-haired girls don't look like larcenists.