I returned from my mission to Colorado in October of 1979. After working a couple of months to save some money, I returned to Provo in January 1980 to resume my education. That first semester I roomed with a friend from my freshman year. It was just a room in the basement of a tree streets house. There was no kitchen, just a minifridge and a hot plate. I basically lived on cereal, PBJs and hot dogs that semester. Near the end of the semester, I got engaged.
For the spring and summer term, I moved into a house with a bunch of my friends from back in Illinois. As I recall, the house was on the corner of 2nd North and 1st East in Provo, close to downtown. Someone had crafted a nice wooden sign in the shape of the State of Illinois with the words “House of Il” engraved or burned into it. (I assume you get the double entendre…)
I had a great time living in that house. One of my roommates was quite the chick magnet, so there were girls around all the time. And the house next door was rented by a group of really gorgeous women. Of course, I was the only guy in our house who was actually engaged, so while I enjoyed watching all the frat-lite antics of my roomies, I was able to roll up my sleeves and concentrate on my school work (which was important, because that was the term that I started Latin, which would have killed me if I hadn’t really focused on it).
At the end of the summer I got married, and I moved with my new wife–into the basement of the House of Il! There was a separate apartment down there, so that is where we started our married life. The bathroom had one of those “shit-shower-shave” combos where the toilet was actually in the shower. And one night I was watching TV when a mouse ran up my leg and into the couch. Yikes! We lived there a year and then moved into a much nicer basement apartment a few blocks to the east.
So tell us your college housing stories, whether they are fond reminiscences or horror stories.