Nomad
In college I moved out of the dorms and in to a home on one of the many side streets near campus. The vast majority of these homes were in terrible condition and kids were packed in like sardines, albeit happy sardines. Nobody really wanted to live on campus, but you gotta do what you gotta do. I did my year and bolted for off campus housing.
We got 7 of us in a house with only 4 real bedrooms. I shared with my buddy Steve in the largest room, while three lucky bastards got large single rooms. The unlucky last two lived in large closet-like spaces. Not to be confused with actual closets, which both Steve and Mike lived in the year before at a different home. Steve's was hilarious. It wasn't even a closet you could really use. It was more of a small storage space where the roof of the house slanted down from the top floor and caused a small triangle of space that was big enough for a couple milk crates of clothes and a twin mattress. You couldn't stand up at its highest point.
But it didn't matter. Cheap beer and banging chicks was what mattered.
Now might be a good time to point out that neither Steve or I ever really found ourselves flooded with poontang, but that was the focus of the times at any rate.
Our house had a living room floor that had more give in it than the American Cancer Society. Turns out it was being held up by a three inch thick pole in the basement. Our driveway wasn't paved, the basement had a dirt floor, the main floor shower was so bad that most of my roommates wouldn't ever shower in it.
But we enjoyed the hell out of that place.
A year later I upgraded to an apartment and since that move in 1996, I've lived in something like 10 other apartments, 4 homes, and dorms for one last year. That's in 12 years.
It's getting old.
Today I move out of my apartment and into storage. Well, my stuff into storage. I'm going to go nomad for a few weeks until I can move into my buddy's condo when he leaves the country for a couple years.
For how long, I'm not sure.
Hell, even when I move in with Elizabeth it will be a semi-temporary home.
Well, off to box up more cookware.
We got 7 of us in a house with only 4 real bedrooms. I shared with my buddy Steve in the largest room, while three lucky bastards got large single rooms. The unlucky last two lived in large closet-like spaces. Not to be confused with actual closets, which both Steve and Mike lived in the year before at a different home. Steve's was hilarious. It wasn't even a closet you could really use. It was more of a small storage space where the roof of the house slanted down from the top floor and caused a small triangle of space that was big enough for a couple milk crates of clothes and a twin mattress. You couldn't stand up at its highest point.
But it didn't matter. Cheap beer and banging chicks was what mattered.
Now might be a good time to point out that neither Steve or I ever really found ourselves flooded with poontang, but that was the focus of the times at any rate.
Our house had a living room floor that had more give in it than the American Cancer Society. Turns out it was being held up by a three inch thick pole in the basement. Our driveway wasn't paved, the basement had a dirt floor, the main floor shower was so bad that most of my roommates wouldn't ever shower in it.
But we enjoyed the hell out of that place.
A year later I upgraded to an apartment and since that move in 1996, I've lived in something like 10 other apartments, 4 homes, and dorms for one last year. That's in 12 years.
It's getting old.
Today I move out of my apartment and into storage. Well, my stuff into storage. I'm going to go nomad for a few weeks until I can move into my buddy's condo when he leaves the country for a couple years.
For how long, I'm not sure.
Hell, even when I move in with Elizabeth it will be a semi-temporary home.
Well, off to box up more cookware.
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