Underwear boy

Well - it's the end of an era. Peter (aka Underwear Boy, due to his chronic, unabashed lack of clothing other than boxers... and sometimes just briefs) is moving. For those of you who haven't heard about U-Boy, he's renting a room from Tamara, and therefore my housemate when I house-sit for Tamara. He's a criminal lawyer, and his company had relocated him to Dubbo to get more familiar with aboriginal crime. Now they're sending him to Walgett, which is kind of in the middle of nowhere, and if you say the name with the right drawl, I think it captures the essence of the place. From the sounds of it, Dubbo was just breaking him in - Walgett is where he'll get into serious stuff.

But anyway, he's known about this move for ~2 months. This morning, he slept in until 11, got up and made a huge breakfast, chatted on the phone, had a few cigarettes. Then apparently while he was in the shower, he had an epiphany that he's moving in 2 days, because he suddenly runs out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, leaving wet footprints all over, picking up clothes with one hand and moving dishes around with the other - and starts freaking out about all the stuff he needs to get done. Which led to the following conversation:

Peter: This sucks – why does this stuff always happen to me?
Kerry: Other people move, too.
Peter: I’m like a victim.
Kerry: Of what? Having a job?
Peter: Yeah. Why can’t I just be on an island somewhere, drinking and smoking, with lots of pretty girls that don’t want to marry me.

Yup - that's Peter.