I woke at dawn. My closet wasn’t bad. The best part was I had a window that if I held my head at the right angle, I could see Alcatraz Prison floating in San Francisco Bay.

While Emilee slept, I went downstairs to explore the rest of my new home. The hallway was piled floor-to-ceiling with books, textbooks, cookbooks, almanacs—every kind of book—crammed into unpainted wooden bookshelves. Over the doorway hung a painting of a whale reading a book, The Banality of Evil with the Berkeley Campanile poking up in the background.

The night before Emilee explained it broke the rules to turn the heat on and told me a whole list of hippie house rules about composting, cleaning, and what foods in the refrigerator were solely-owned and what foods anyone could eat.

Here’s the craigslist ad for a new roommate posted on the fridge:

WE…are an intentional raw food community. We do not promote racism, sexism, materialism, or factism. We gladly invite all beings who desire to reach our high standards. After an Outward Bound weekend, we’ll let you know if you’re pure enough.

THE ROOM…has a floor, a sloping ceiling on one side, and is located conveniently under the stairs. It’s windowless but cozy, a “room of one’s own” for that height-challenged someone who doesn’t mind sharing their space with athletic gear. $400 month.

YOU…should are gender-fluid but pay strict attention to personal cleanliness while abstaining from soap, fragrances, deodorants, gels, and perfumes. In the interests of water conservation, one five-minute shower is allowed once per week.

INTERESTED? Please respond with a detailed life plan, projected income for the next three years, six month’s rent as a non-refundable deposit, no more than four references but no fewer than three. (If you have more than four friends we’re suspicious you’ll have sufficient time for house meetings that occur four times a month.)