Sofa surfing

It's almost like a milestone. That moment of your life where your relationship goes badly wrong, you lose your job, can't stand your housemates, are between flats, need a place to crash for a few days....or whatever the reason for finding yourself sleeping on your mates' sofa. This is the second time for me; of no privacy, cats attacking whilst I sleep, suitcases spilling out all over the place and just a general disorientation. This time it is just for 2 weeks until they let me loose into my new flat, not some disastrous life event. However, there is nothing like sleeping on a sofa to make you appreciate your own space when you finally get it- not to mention a real-life bed. I think I drove my first sofa-offering friends a bit mad with my untidiness; not that I actually made lots of mess. It was merely the awkwardness of living out of a suitcase and lots of bags, meaning that in order to find something to wear, or anything atall really, you have to empty the said suitcase to find the item-which then means clothes, DVDs and socks strewn all over the room. Then you put it all back and  five minutes later realise you need the very thing placed in the bottom of the bag. Sods law. I am currently blogging from my sofa with all my belongings piled in the corner and being attacked by even crazier cats, such is life.