Every once in while, ok , a few times a week, my housemate Roy, a 40+ year old South African, will come home shit-faced and start yelling all sorts of crazy stuff. His latest bit of fun is to burst into my room and tell me that I have to leave. That always makes me feel really good despite the fact that he forgets about it in the morning.

Roy tends to be argumentative at the best of times and a complete ass hole at the worst. And he knows it too. He's classic example of what the Aussies call a "shit-stirrer". Roy told me that several times that he has come out of the bar to find that his tires have been slashed or someone has poured crazy glue in his door locks. Once, he said, someone broke into his car and poured crazy glue down the ignition. Now he uses a screwdriver to start his Nissan Pathfinder.

It's no fun dealing with belligerent drunks anywhere, but especially in your own home. It came as no surprise to me when Lilla, Roy's erstwhile wife, told me that they were getting divorced and the only thing preventing it was that they still owned this condo we live in. It's not on the market yet, but clearly it will be soon, so I need to get out of here. The problem is that it continues to be hard to find a place where I can live with the kittens.