EFFIE BATEMAN | BRISBANE| CONTACT
Recent home leaver, Brendon Smith, has just moved into his first ever sharehouse – a ten bedroom monstrosity located on a main road in Woolloongabba.
He reportedly lives with 15 other students, who were all too happy to swap their tenancy rights to a fair number of bathrooms in favour of cheap rent.
Despite the alarmingly high ratio of rats to people, Brendon is just chuffed that he could finally leave the family nest for a nest of a different kind.
“I’m finally an adult,” says Brendon, sweeping up the random pubes left by the last tenant.
“I can do what I want now!”
As an only child, Brendon was used to being spoilt and knows his mornings won’t be the same without mum cutting his vegemite toast into triangles.
What he wasn’t prepared for, however, was fitted sheets.
Tasked with making his bed for the first time, Brendon is struck with his first ever challenge as a privileged kid.
“What the actual fuck is this?”, Brendon says, as he desperately tries to get the last corner, “honestly, who designed this thing?”
After struggling for a solid ten minutes, Brendon manages to secure the last bit under the bed, only for another corner to come undone.
Obviously not aware he’s trying to squeeze a double over a queen mattress, Brendon full on rage quits and throws the sheets onto the floor in disgust.
“I want my mum”, Brendon cries, his first glimpse at what being an adult is truly like.
“How does she do it?”
When The Advocate visits Brendon a week later, his fitted sheet is nowhere to be seen.
Brendon’s bed now consists of just a mattress protector, a plain white doona, and a single pillow.
“I decided that I didn’t actually need one, says Brendon, smiling a little too widely.
“Fitted sheets are a scam.”