Running away from home

Mark and I have run away from home.  We left The Kid in our rented property (we put her name on the lease when we moved in, anticipating this). Earlier this year, she was talking to one of her internet buddies that lived in Adelaide and they discussed moving in together in November.  All of a sudden, November was upon her, and I received a call from her when she was overseas on an 8 week Contiki tour. 'Mum, Scot is coming over in November and he wants to move in'. Hmmm. Mark had previously made the Italian patriarch, thumping the table for emphasis, decision 'No more boarders', so I told her, that the only way it could be done, was if they could come up with the months rent in advance, and if she could pay back some of the money I lent her when she went overseas. She didn't finish saving as she had been bullied out of her workplace at CEVA Logistics, by a late twenty something Duramine popping monster bitch. And of course she had to get another full time job and also convince Mark that she was responsible enough to take over a lease that also had his name on it.

Claire returned home, called a family meeting, which involves her joining us in the lounge room, Mark turning off the TV and me thinking 'oh fuck, here it comes'. Claire got the 'talking dog', we dont have a talking stick, we have a 'talking poodle' and while holding Kombi the black poodle in the air Lion King style, she confidently presented a series of statements on why she should be trusted to take over on her own. It reminded me of why her Grade 6 teacher described her as a 'Bush Lawyer'. She is very convincing. Mark was allowed to speak, and said, 'Well you better get a job', (even though he didn't have the talking stick poodle, Kombi was lying on his back, airing his balls, while The Kid was scratching his belly). On average, it can take five months to find a job, but within twelve hours, The Kid had a job and it was all happening.

It suited me, I have been looking at semi-rural properties on realestate.com for fifteen years and I managed to find a pretty little white cottage, behind a white picket fence with a rose garden and a verandah to rent, not too far out of Melbourne in a tiny little town.

It happened so quickly, there were a lot of 'You didn't tell me you were moving' statements from friends and family.

So The Kid has been living independently for six weeks now and things have been interesting for her.

The power company fucked up the changeover and disconnected her power instead of transferring it so she had no power for 48 hours, she had video deadlines and her Freddo Frog birthday ice cream cake defrosted in the freezer. The power company was incompetent, negligent and told lies. But it was happily sorted in the end.

She has locked herself out twice and had to break in, so a fly screen needs fixing

The carpet is invested with human flesh eating fleas

There was a Huntsman spider in her shower

She dropped her video camera and broke it just before she was to film a promotional video

and now the washing machine is full of water and is tripping the power.

We both agreed being and adult isn't much fun.