I was finally living alone. I considered my place my first singles apartment. Singles apartments are the same all over the world, aren't they? Let's walk through my place room by room and I'll show you the highlights of fine Aussie, twenty-something living.

My apartment had two bedrooms, one bathroom combined laundry. Also a little hall, a kitchen, a dining room, and a living room.

In the living room I had a telephone wire spool for a coffee table. I saw it sitting off the side of the road, borrowed a mate's ute, and schlepped it home. Some people shellac them, others like the natural pitted, tar-smeared look. I painted mine with the only colours I could find in my dad's garage: aqua and black. It went really well with the green-gold shag carpet and the orange sofa. The spool top was always cluttered with the remains of a wild Saturday night, usually from three months earlier.

I was lucky to have the sofa. I also found it on the street. I remember cruising by, seeing it balanced on the gutter, and thinking, "Heeeyyy. If that baby's there after dark, she'll be in my living room before midnight." I also had a bean bag chair covered with electrical tape to keep the beans from falling out and the material from simply disintegrating.

My place had the same green-gold shag rug that you find in apartments everywhere around the world. I'm certain that there's one manufacturer who carpets every apartment worldwide, and that it's part of a global conspiracy. This carpet turned up naturally at the corners and smelled like someone had soaked it in spilled milk, Bundaberg Rum, and cat pee. This is when it was new. Within months I'd tramped down the rug by the front door so much that I couldn't even rake it back up. Every time I tried, I'd kick up a wombat.