You know the angst I have about passing hard-up people asking for help? The ones who beg while attempting to infiltrate my psyche through my eyeballs (which, despite popular theory, are not windows to the soul, but just squishy, swimming spots of color and nerves.)? I think I know what to do about those pleading people now. Granola bars! This morning I gave one to a guy asking for breakfast money. He said, "Better than a pint, right?". Then tore off the wrapper and crammed the bar into his mouth.
So now I'm just going to keep a stash of them, and when the guilt gets to me, I'll know that at least I'm nourishing homeless people with whole grains and chocolate chips rather than just a fiver that'll end up being spent on who knows what.