I really like houses having names, but I live alone, so there’s no real need for a name. You don’t want to always be saying, “I was at Aaron and Lou and Ben and Mali’s house,” so instead you say, “I was at the Paradox.” But if it’s one person…“Sarah’s place.” Done.
I named my apartment anyway, after living here about a year. I called it Xanadon’t, because I have a giant metal K hanging on my wall, and I was watching Citizen Kane one night, and it seemed clever. Then for awhile I had two friend houses in my neighborhood called the Hobbit Hole and Rivendell, respectively, so last year I changed mine to the Lonely Mountain so we could all match (and because nobody but me ever called it Xanadon’t). But then Rivendell was renamed, and the Hobbit Hole got torn down, and suddenly calling my place the Lonely Mountain seemed a bit sad.
So I’m changing it again, for the last time. My apartment’s name is officially the Freak Wharf (if you’re not familiar, this should clear things up). Because I have always made my home a place that is welcoming, and always available and open to my friends any time they need a place to stay, or just somewhere to be.
Welcome to the Freak Wharf, kids. Make yourselves at home.