I currently have two, half naked young men, liberally covered in tattoos lounging on my front verandah. Some of you may think I am the luckiest girl in the world, others may shudder at the thought.
Today the scaffolding is being erected: a great spider web of concrete covered metal attached to my house.
There have been a lot of alarming sounds, from small metal objects pinging against the windows, to the thud of heavy wooden beams being dropped on bricks, and what sounds like war cries coming from the guys as they stand on my roof. The three and a half year old Blonde Bombshell tells me they are 'hurting the house'.
It's the hottest day in months, at least 38 degrees. Neither of them have hats or sunglasses... or clothes apparently. Their shorts - commonly known as stubbies - are not leaving much to the imagination. Their lack of shirts mean we can see their dragon 'drawings' all over their arms and backs, which the Bombshell finds quite fascinating.
But despite their otherwise apparent lack of sun-sense, I did see one of them liberally slather himself in suncream, which the Bombshell pointed out to me. She said she was very proud of him. Being about nineteen years of age, I doubt the compliments of a preschooler impressed him much. But perhaps it means that tomorrow he might be wearing a shirt!