Hell sweet home...
Let's see... there was the halls of residence in the first year that I had to move out of, especially as it seemed they'd been trying to get into my room every day. And it took a self-professed "knows how they think" new housemate to help me find all my belongings.

Or there was returning after the summer to the house I'd rented in the second year to try to get some mail including my missing bank card only to find out that the new tenants had thrown it all away. They also seemed averse to light and there was a strong sweet musty smell coming from the hall when I went round. Oh yeah, and the noise pollution complaint against them that came in our names as that was what the council still had on record. They'd been there about four months by that time.

Then there was reclaiming my furniture in the third year from around the flat as my housemate had moved her boyfriend in over the summer and had spent it lying to the landlord about his living there.

But the best one was moving back out of home after deciding that there'd be blood spilled if I stayed living there. I bought a house with my sister, let a room to a lovely lodger and then a year later my sister decided she wanted to move in her git of a boyfriend as well over the summer. This is the sort of guy who liked to tell me to go away in my own house. I told her that I wasn't happy but I'd put up with it. A month later she moved out to live with him and she hasn't really spoken to me since - except for screaming matches on the phone while selling the house. It's now been three years. I'm qute impressed.
( Bozo the Clone will work for chocolate., Sat 7 Apr 2007, 22:34, Reply)