It’s nearly 4 pm and he’s still asleep on my sofa, stinking up the room with unwashed body odour. A funk, a stale stench of farts, food and bodies permeates the living room. He’s 57 soon and hasn’t had a job since he was a teen. He refuses to work and refuses won’t leave because he has nothing. Achieving independence would mean he has to work and that’s something he feels entitled not to do. You have 11 months left before I kick you out.
