I'm not a "house" person. I've never felt comfortable in a house, thus never feeling comfortable calling any place home. I love lofts - I suspect is why both begin with L. I've enjoyed apartments. The crappiest thing about each are the roomates.
My aunts used to work as a pack, one distracting me while another snuck around, waiting to bash a bannana in my mouth.
I love them so much. All of them. They taught me the meaning of survival, and are partially responsible for me enjoying cold food. I mean it - chilli, fidello; all cultures of pasta, frankly. I don't need a microwave, just an appetitie.
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