That Soft Place

Yeah, home. Where they can't turn you away.

Erkie Pie has been living on his own since 2002 despite the homecooked meals, freshly laundered clothes, no curfew and free rent.

Alas, all that proved no enticement compared to living in an apartment with cement block shelves, three stereos, ten remote controls and downstairs neighbors who democratically did their best to provide contact highs for all.

Or to a house by the university with a pool table, five sofas and surround sound for movie watching, and water service that turned itself off when it felt like it. And apparently no building permits when built.

Or to the house farther away from the college with a front room that's used solely for parking bikes, has light switches that shock you and a hole in the garage wall. (What is the attraction between fists and walls when you're a twenty-something male? I'd think sheet rock would sting even if you were drunk or really mad, but house siding? That had to hurt.)

But his friends, who didn't change majors in their fourth year, have jobs and money. They no longer need roommates. They can pay $750/mo. for a little studio apartment.

Not so for The Erk. His search for someone that needs a roommate with a large puppy has proved fruitless.

So guess what I've been doing? Hiking with Kharma? Nope. Planning a Hawaiian vacation? Nope. Blogging? Definitely not.

No, lucky me, I've been clearing the craft/guest room for occupancy. "Craft room" means many containers and boxes and drawers and files and books that have to go somewhere else. "Guest room" means all the extra furniture ended up in there and that has to go somewhere else too. It's almost cleaned out which is lucky because the end of the month/end of the lease is fast approaching. I'm juggling space as fast as I can. I'm finding lots of stuff that needs to be craigslisted.

Or else I need a magic wand and a disappearing spell.