Think of a bad roommate - I know you've had one. Stays up too late, drinks the last of the milk from the carton then puts the empty back in the fridge, leaves the bathroom a swamp, plays hours of loud first person shooter games in the living room, their room smells like a biochemical disaster and can destroy the kitchen making one meal and then gets defensive when you ask them to clean it up 48 hours later?
That's like living with a teenage boy.
I love my son. I really do.
. . . and last Friday afternoon I gave him my debit card and metropass and asked him and his friend to just go away.
Did I have a good idea that they'd go to see The Avengers? Yes. Did I care if he was headed to go knock over a liquor store? Not one bit.
I just wanted him out of my house.
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