I know what you're thinking. "Max, enough with the shitty stories already. We've had this same crap three times already, and it was only just three weeks ago when we last heard about it. Do we have to listen to ANOTHER Boring Story about the Royal Prank Phone Call?" Well, thank the lord, no, you don't. You get to listen to another boring story about The Fifteen Herculean Trials of Max Higgins, as told by the Brothers Grimm. In little over 19 hours at the time of writing, I will have my testicles handed to me on a platter and my lungs removed via my navel. My parental units will be returning to the mystical Land of the Queen, and will become immediately disappointed. Not necessarily in the state of the house, and not necessarily in me, just disappointed, because that is what parents do, right?

It's been an... educational experience, that is for sure. Under the circumstances, you'd be forgiven for thinking that I was a crying, foetally-position, shivering mess. To be honest, if you had asked me three and a half months ago how I would handle all of the list of bullshit, then I would probably say 'just like a One Nation candidate handles Channel 7 interviews.' Then you'd be wondering why I was making current political jabs three months ago, so don't look too far into it. I don't mean to sound like I am complaining, or that I am whining about the same thing over and over, which I clearly am, but parents, seriously, don't pull this stunt again, they'll be seeing me in the asylum.

It has been pretty quiet on the home front over the past few weeks, which is amazing considering it was going disaster-a-day for a while there. The only event that has come close to being considered on the same cataclysmic scale as the rest of my misadventures was that Australia Post has lost a parcel. Not a problem for me, it was just Mum and Dad's clothes, so they can suffer and chase it up. Oh, and I burnt the house down.

Bugger, my Pokemon cards were still in there!

I've learnt much though over the 105 days. I've learnt that my Dad doesn't understand human communication. An Intercontinental Ballistic text message that simply reads "Hello" is pretty ineffective communication. Especially for 25c/message. Nonetheless, over the course of the 103 day sojourn, I must have been sent 274 separate text messages at different times of the day ranging from midday to 4am that all solely said "Hello". Dad, if you have something to say, spit it out, if you just want to chat, then lead with a conversational topic, not just a greeting. You don't phone someone up, say hello and then wait for them to tell you something. If you're calling, convention states you're the one who needs to have a topic in mind.

I've learnt that my dog is the bane of my existence. Never hath a beast brought the pain of such unrelenting hellfire and rage upon my life. She has discovered that jumping on the bed then walking on my balls will wake me up and cause me enough pain that going back to sleep is not an option for long enough that I can feed her. She has also discovered, perhaps for the first time, because she is not being cuddled to sleep by Dad, that there are such things as possums, and decides to bark at times when the only people awake are drunk, murderers or paramedics looking after the other two categories of people.

I've learnt that the family across the road are just as loud as my family, except its funnier, because their arguments are entirely audible. If there's nothing on TV, its just as easy to grab a bowl of popcorn, open a window and enjoy. To change the volume, all you have to do is just yell "Scream Louder" in their general direction. Shouldn't I call the cops if it gets too big? Probably, but I'm gonna wait a while before I introduce a plot twist like that.

I've learnt that the guy down at the grocery store remembers me as the 'armpit deep in shit creep' after I told him why I was buying a raft of cleaning products a few weeks ago.

Most importantly I have learnt that even though I am a complete and utter idiot, there are a few people out there that will actually laugh and then help me instead of just laugh. I would like to thank my supportive-from-afar sisters, my awesome girlfriend Kendall, my similarly idiotic best friend Eli, the entire King house hold, my Aunty Marg and anyone who helped out but who were so insignificant that you are not worth mentioning.

This image lets the author use visual language to express gratitude. It also helps to pull those people through who don't have the attention span to read much text.

Seriously, Mum and Dad, pull this shit again, and I am having you both declared unfit for independent living and you're moving into an aged care home. And not one of the nice ones.