couch surfing

I've been looking for a place to live. It's pretty fun really. Looking up houses online. Going to inspections. Weighing up the pros and cons. Big bedrooms, tiny kitchen. Close to uni, not enough windows. Cheap rent, no heating.

My future housemates and I have only a few criteria. Bedrooms must be big enough for a double bed, wardrobe, and a desk. Kitchen must have enough bench space so we can create vegetarian feasts. The laundry needs to fit a washing machine and dryer, cos one of my housemates scored a set off her grandparents.

I have one or two criteria of my own. I want the house to have some kind of quirk. We looked at one that had a random little nook built into the wall at about head height. I've no idea what it was designed for, but I liked it. Another one had a hollywood star in the middle of the bathroom floor. I'm also a fan of walk in pantries, of which we've seen a few.

Anyway, I keep thinking of this song by Darren Hanlon. I think it's fitting.

Well I haven't paid rent in a month or more
I'm couch surfing
And I don't have a key cause I don't have a door
I'm couch surfing
I'm not taking calls
I'm between houses

Of my material possessions I've lost track
I didn't need them
Everything I need fits in my backpack
I call it freedom
A pair of jeans some shirts and a guitar lead
A toothbrush, socks and a paperback reader
All the rest is what's hanging off of me
I'm not answering questions
I'm between houses

Outside the night is cold and stormy
And you blew up the air mattress for me
We'll talk all night like an open book
And I'll sleep on every breath you took
Before you leave I'll sneak a look up at you

But there's an old saying that could bare retelling
When you're couch surfing:
'the guest should leave before the fish starts smelling'
When your couch surfing
It's romantically existential
To reduce your life to the bare essentials
All that which is inconsequential guides me

But this whole theory really depends
On whether or not you've got good friends
And all this weightlessness the philosophers preach
Reduces you to societies leach
But tonight I've landed on my feet
I'm still one friend away from the bum on the street
And I've used up all my good will vouchers
On every single friend with couches
It won't be long before they'll ask me to leave
It's time I cut myself some keys
Give me a pen I'll sign a lease and go get me a home