There’s a TV show running here in Australia at the moment called Packed to The Rafters. It’s a fictional show detailing the life of a family, the Rafters, and their various goings on. What’s interesting about this show is that the family consists of a grandfather, parents and 3 grown children with their various partners (some married and some not). Not too surprising except they are all living in the same house! Here’s a clip;
Now whilst I’ll admit I have no idea who is who and who is who’s partner and what the deal is with the brunette who has just slept with one of the sons who I think is the husband of another brunette who, if she finds out, will go ballistic unless she’s the very, very friendly cousin in which case she’ll be fine, I find it interesting that TV land is for once mirroring a current societal trend of grown children returning to the nest.
Now it appears that our household has succumbed to this trend too. At this point, we have my sister Shrimp and her partner Brendon recently back from living in the UK, Chris and I recently back from living in Canada and Katie the border collie recently back from living in Bundaberg…all now living with Mum and Dad. Lucky they have a big house, and lucky we all have big senses of humour. Mind you, there’s nothing funny about seeing Dad walking around in his undies (or maybe there’s everything funny about it – haven’t quite made up my mind on that one).
I actually wouldn’t have even been aware of the “Packed to the Rafters” show (I don’t watch much TV) except that Dad takes great delight in regularly informing us how we are “packed to the rafters” just like in the show. As if we didn’t already know. We are, after all, grown adults back living with their parents. We don’t need reminding. Dad calls it mooching. We prefer to call it, “temporarily living with parents whilst somewhat depleting resources in return for graciously providing our unparalleled company”.
Apart from Brendon being horrified when Mum said “scrotum” at the dinner table the other night (Brendon thinks it’s a hideous word, and admittedly it is peculiar conversation material) all has been going rather smoothly. Testament to our close family ties, having a psychiatrist in the house (ie Dad) and access to Prozac. Now where’s the paper, I need to see if anyone is looking to hire a sarcastic, living with her parents blogger with no technical skills!
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