Empty homes

The other night, a mystery guest arrived at the door to look at a room for rent. I was confused, and told her she might have the wrong house. She didn't. I just have no idea what happens in my own house.

I share a place with six other people, but I barely ever see any of them. If it weren't for the magical cleaning and dirtying that goes on in the kitchen, or the occasional locked bathroom, it often feels like I live alone!

The maintenance guy tells me that Matt the gym salesman is taking a contract somewhere overseas. And apparently Christian's parents are migrating to England so he's moving in with them when he gets back from Geneva.

The naked Polish couple that moved in a month or two ago don't speak English.

I may need a new place to live.