I'm not the kind of guy, you usually see couch surfing. But when it comes to relations coming to visit, I'm always the one ending up to couch surf in my own house. My only satisfaction is that my room is still in one piece and not converted into some sort of lounge or library. Although, I would much rather see my room converted into a library more than anything.
Day one. Not that its a couch, my future mattress, destined for Berkeley is laid onto the floor of my brother's room where I first share my bindle. My brother makes way too much noise through his nose and mouth. Gah. But in the solace I found early in the morning, I could cuddle with my body pillow and only imagine who I wanted it to really be.
Day two. The mattress is moved out to berkeley where its sitting rather lopsided against my bed. So now, i'm without a home. I could have stayed in berkeley, but I guess I couldn't be bothered to then. I was rather impartial to having a really good fill for my tucker for the weekend. And I have to say, really good dinner.
But now, i'm without a home for real. I dont want to bunk up with my brother again. One thing, I couldn't stand the noise. So couches are the only option I have left. I've got the downstairs couch. Too small. The upstairs couch, too hard, or the family room couch. Ah, the house whore. I kid you not, everyone has had a chance to sit on that big comfy couch. Everyone i'm related to, everyone i've dated, and everyone I've been friends with and had been over. So around 40 asses in total or so.
It seems the best option. I might just have to take up on that offer...