In the woods near here the Hammer and I came across a makeshift tent. It was a green tarp thrown over a rope and held down to the ground with some scrap lumber. The Hammer looked inside and so did I. No one was home.
Nailed above the tent's front door to a tree one end of the rope was tied to was a plaque, the sort of plaque you may even have in your spidery basement suite. The plaque read, "Home Sweet Home." You have to love a homeless person with a sharp sense of irony.