I wish I had acquired some hoodlum skills, i.e picking keyholes, scaling walls and climbing parapets – that would not have cost my careless stupidity: 130aud for the lockout and 60 minutes of excruciating wait, which would ultimately leave me less than 10 hours to pack-shift-cage in a 24hour eviction deadline. Such luck or the lack thereof, is unquantifiable.

Presumably, the most horrific outcome of my eviction circumstance was to face the prospect of sleeping on a park bench in a dimly lit street lurking with the possibility of getting mugged, raped, mutilated, mangled by a raging beast or other creatures manifestable from macabre tales of the homeless. My insufferable fate owed a thousand thanks to Marcus for taking me in to his illegitimately overcrowded apartment that presently roofs my head. Before imposition, my temporal abode was barely sustained by one too many disagreements, insensitivities and intolerable cruelties. The aggravation has now reached its critical mass and every involving member of the house is precariously threading on thin ice - a seemingly innocuous remark could threaten to break the factitious consonance.

In retrospect, all my years of living abroad, I’m thankful to be part of a loving commune. There was Mich, Don, Marcus, gate-crasher-evictee-Quentin and floormates - Weizhi, Chris, Sal, frequent guests, Jodie, Kelly and Mike. no debaucheries, but wholesome good fun. I can’t say the same for now – living with strangers and semi-acquaintances, I would be shameless to even despise what was offered but (need to get this off my chest!) sharing a common bathroom with 4+1 people, it’s beyond livable.

Here - standard flat-mate protocol applies. The pivotal effects of undermining house politicking in its ugliest form, can take on dimensions of the most vindictive manner. When tension hinges on who takes out the trash, who ate whose pizza, who doesn’t reciprocate whose kindness – grown ups acting pre-pubescent. And these flat-mates are the very same people who permeated your social network to form your bitching alliance. How ironic. Where is the love?

Although I do get a living cubicle, courtesy of Marcus, bed with clean sheets, pizza on delivery, errand transport, dvds aplenty and great company, I really can’t wait to end these handicapped days.