Vagabond

I'm trying to get a security clearance for work. The application required me to list the addresses of all the places I've lived since 2005. No big, I thought. And then I actually thought.

SIXTEEN.

Who in hell's tarnation moves 16 times in 7 years?
I didn't event attempt to track down the 6 different addresses I had in Romania/Moldova, bringing the actual total to 22. "Crappy Communist block down pot-holed road from gypsy camp" should suffice.

It took me, like, thousands of hours to dig these addresses up. I racked my brain. I called old roommates. I got distracted and reminisced about...

...freshman year in the old Deseret Towers at BYU---so old they were being torn down while we were living in them.
...my first apartment. The one with the mildew on the bedroom ceiling.
...my host mom's apartment in Paris, with the off-limits piano room that my roommate and I were banned from.
...the town house where the first of a series of show-stopping dance parties took place.
...the duplex with the 70s-inspired wood paneling on the walls and the toilet that clogged every other day.

I had to review titles from past blog posts to ensure that I hadn't already used Vagabond. I've got Rover, Homeless, Hobo, and Hobo Pt.II. This goes to show what a roving, homeless hobo vagabond I am.