Everybody should have a home.

That’s what I was thinking, over and over, two months ago as I was being kicked out of yet another temporary lodge. It started innocently enough as I graduated from University last year, but instead of doing the next logical step – you know, rent an apartment, find a job, get married, that sort of stuff – I moved in with friends and stayed in my small town bubble for seven more months.

Slow but steady, I was losing…

Jobs, relationships, prospects, friends, hope… everything.

I flitted from couch to couch, friend to friend, leaving a trail of disaster behind: angry housemates, unpaid bills, that sort of stuff. Yet, throughout this time, I was as happy as a clam. I had no worries about rent or responsibility: I was living the ‘good life’. Much like Peter Pan, I didn’t want to grow up.

I wanted to be the eternal student. And I was – for six whole years.

Then one day, I ran out of sofas, money, and Zen. I remember staying strong the whole time. It felt as if the more crap piled up on my plate, the more carefree I got. But that was on the surface. One day I’d finally had enough so I sat on my bed, determined to cry. My best friend came in and started reassuring me...

I’d always find a place to stay, a friend to ask.

And she was right. But I wanted to cry!!! How dare she take this from me: my long-awaited catharsis! So I tried to ignore her and went back to quietly weeping… until she proposed the ultimate cure to every problem.

You wanna know what the ULTIMATE CURE TO LIFE’S SHIT IS?

Eggs.

Smashing against a wall.

And you know what, it helped. We merrily sent the unsuspecting eggs to their demise as we pictured all the crap magically disappearing. I thought of all the times I ran out of something. All the people that were nasty to me. All the nights I wished for tears to fall, but they wouldn’t. Finally - I was free from my sadness.

I had found my home.

Right there next to my best friend… smashing eggs against the wall.