The food stuff in the pantry reminded me of a guy DH and I stupidly allowed to stay with us in our 1br apartment when we were first married. I was pregnant at the time, around 6-7 months along and still getting wickedly ill if I didn't continously drink water and have small snacks all day.
This guy however was a night owl and I can't tell you how many times I woke up in the morning to find food gone. I don't mean the last of the peanut butter, I mean a whole jar and a whole loaf of bread. I demanded $ for it and as he was walking out the door when I kicked him out he handed me $9 and said that was "all he had" yeah, all he had that wasn't spent on meth. Naive DH and I had let us stay with us when he gave us this sob story of "I need to get away from the other guys in the barracks so I won't be influenced to keep doing the drugs!!" It didn't take me long to realize he was still using, thanks to a friend who was also our next door neighbor. But DH, who likes to believe the best in everybody despite evidence to the contrary and a jury, denied it and was so sure we could help the guy.