Kids These Days

Greetings, my fellow port swillers!

How quaint Ol’ Robbo’s expectations can be sometimes.

As I mentioned the other day, Youngest Gel is home from school now. Her car has been sitting out in the driveway under the hollies and maples for months and has been fully subjected to rain, snow, pollen, dirt, bird droppings, and all the rest of it in Ma Nature’s bag of tricks, and frankly has got pretty disgusting. (It’s black, so all of that shows up all the more so.)

Silly Robbo thought that getting the car back in order would make a pleasant project for Youngest, something mindless to start off her summah after the rigors of the academic year were over. At the least, I figured she would take it down to the gas station and run it through the wash a few times. At best, I envisioned her getting out there with a bucket and a sponge and applying a little elbow grease. (That’s what I do myself. La Wrangler gets a bath twice a year whether she needs it or not.)

Ha, ha, ha. Nope.

Instead, she hired some guy to come out to Port Swiller Manor and detail the thing. I’m listening to his pressure-washer even as I type. (At least it’s not coming out of my pocket, so I got that going for me.)

I’m not saying the Gels are spoiled, but yeah, they’re pretty spoiled.

Another tell that she’s home, by the bye, is that the milk has suddenly vanished. (It is her habit to eat prodigious bowls of cereal.) Now Ol’ Robbo has to have his first cup of kawfee straight up. Grrrrrrr…..