While I was away spending time with family in the south and preventing the usual case of inoperable chapped skin, someone I know needed to use my house for a day or two. No problem, I said. No problem, that is, until an hour ago when I had cause to go into the upstairs bathroom, and it made me wonder – just how many stray hairs can one shed upon completion of a simple shower? It was as though a herd of buffalo had come in during molting season (and no, I have no idea if such a thing exists, I’m just guessing), then had danced about in some wild mating ritual, and promptly left to go have a smoke.
Another time, years ago, I had another guest stay while I was away. I came back to what can only be described as a re-enactment of “Animal House.” I don’t think I’m being picky when I say that if you use my stove, do not cook the meat directly on the burner.
So that’s it. Anyone who wants to visit this summer? I have one requirement:
Find a hotel room.