I’ve had a couple of backpacking Aussie guests staying with me for the last few weeks. They’re itchy-ass feet are doing a year-long stay-cay in the UK. And because they’re pretty much family I offered them a place to crash while they drifted through the city of ridiculous accommodation prices that is London.
In fact, the moment I heard they were coming I sent out an invitation letter welcoming them to my palace. I’m a terribly hospitable fellow with a lot of overbearing generosity to give. To be totally honest with you, I probably would have been offended if they didn’t stay.
The only problem is, I’ve moved into a studio. Sure it’s not quite as bad as the 2mx2m box I lived in last year, but it’s still quite literally one room for three people to share.
Obvs I gave them my bed while I took the blow-up mattress I bought on eBay. And as you’d expect I rolled over a quarter million times each night because that’s just what happens when you’re elevated by PVC and air. Each time I wondered if they were dreaming they were near pool toys.
The first week was fab. We had delicious dinners on the floor, and because I cooked they didn’t complain it was vegan. We watched Bondi Rescue a lot. And they let me tell them about my government conspiracy theories. Luckily they were my guests so politely nodded and only subtly addressed my flawed arguments.
The second week was good too, except I needed to do washing one night and that happens in the laundrette across the road. Unfortch I arrived not long before close and didn’t have time for a tumble dry. So this had to happen.
I’ve always wondered if I owned a lot of underwear and since it was all up in their faces they were able to confirm that I did.
It was great overall though. I ADORED coming home to loved ones and having people to talk jokes with until bedtime. Sadly, I feel this might have been a reflection of how lonely I am living so far from my whanau. But this isn’t about my internal angst, let’s get down to the nuts and bolts of how cool it is that three adults can live in a small space together without it being weird.
Well friend, I’m sorry you let society shape your perceptions of what is normal and what is not.
I mean, sure to him it might seem weird. He owns a couples of houses in London, both located a pleasant distance from his parents, sister and close friends. He sees them regularly for Sunday meals and Hallmark occasions like Mother’s Day. So to him, sharing intimate space like this with his family might seem totally odd ball. But to plenty of other parts of society, it’s the norm. Not only do my family sometimes pile on top of each other’s living space on the rare occasion we are all in the same place at the same time, but families all over the world live very close of each other, every day (I know, I’ve slept with them).
I can’t speak for Ren and Scotty, but to me, it was a barrel of fun. I mean, apart from a few pings of anxiety towards the end because I was falling behind on work and life admin and personal grooming. Yeah, apart from that, I found it neat that I could happily share a small space with people who weren’t me.
So if I like you enough and you think we wouldn’t mind being all up in each other’s space, you can come stay with me too. Just make sure you’re as funny and respectful as Ren and Stimpy.