Hunter... or hunted?

Today was the beginning of the hunt. The house-hunt. The smarmy, foundation-caked receptionists handing out wrong keys, the clang of the hammer as each enquiry is met with the answer "It's been let, it's been let, it's been let". The "how do I dress up my income and previous employment and mother's maiden name and five year plan and every other skerrit of personal data they want into something different and desirable" brain-drain of the application form. The emotional rollercoaster of loving a house, then letting it free. Love it, let it free. But, it is after all, only the beginning. There may be many weeks of this turbulance... who knows WHERE I'll be living at the end of it! I have to remind myself that despite wanting to be with my partner, I am in no hurry. Some people are never so lucky as to have a share-house like my current home. It's a place where friendships are born. Germinating over bangers'n'mash, The Office, summer barbies, the gathering of one another's laundry as it begins to rain. Where is this lyrical waxing going? I know not! Where am I going? Abed, afore I asay something really astupid!