Sunday, June 2, 2024

Teenage Boys

 I'm nearly ready to head to the airport to go back to Darwin. I've got nearly everything ready for Liam, my house sitter. 

I've known Liam since he was two-days old. He's now 18. 

Yes, I'm letting an 18-year-old look after my flat and cat for a week. 

He's a good lad. Quiet. Responsible. At university, but on a break, so he reckons he'll make the most of having a television to himself for the week, while feeding my ratbag cat. 

I've done everything a good host should do. I've cleaned the toilet and bathroom. The kitchen is in order. I've made the bed with fresh linen, and there are clean towels for the bathroom sitting on the bed. My vibrator has been hidden away out of sight. I've even done a bit of dusting. 

And of course, I asked if I could get any food in, after all, he's used to living with his Mum and Dad and I'm pretty sure they keep him fed. He also got told that he was welcome to anything he found in the cupboard or fridge - with the exception of the bottle of French Champagne - if that gets drunk, that needs to be replaced.

It seems 18-year-old boys have very simple needs. 

He asked for a loaf of light rye bread (because when he came over he noticed my KMart special sandwich press) That and six litres of lite milk. 


What the? 

Sorry, I buy one to two litres of almond milk a week. I don't really drink milk, haven't done for years - I run better on limited dairy. 


I've never had a teenage boy of my own, but many of my friends possess one of two of them. They seem to improve with age. Liam is definitely out of the grunty stage and is well on his way to being a fully formed human being. 


What's he going to do? Bathe in it? Is this normal? 

I spose it's calcium, good for the bones. 

Today's song: 

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