Hippy Dippy Groovy Love

"Something tragic happened this morning", my house guest says to me after waking me from sleeping in, "I went to get a bowl of cereal and all the cereal I bought was gone. I just bought it yesterday!"
I explain to him that, whenever anyone brings anything into my home, it becomes communal property. Food, furniture, clothes, and even some toiletries belong to all the inhabitants of the apartment where I reside.
Even personal space and privacy are shared between me and my three other room mates. There are three bedrooms divided by four of us. Of course we describe one room as being "My room", and the other as "{Erica's} Room", and the other as "{Sandra's} room" merely because our respective beds, dressers, and shelves furnish the rooms. But other than our furniture claiming the space, we can hardly stake ownership of any room in the house.
For instance, for the past three weeks my house guest has been sleeping in my bed in "My room". Which means that there are now five people sharing three beds. So I have often squatted in the other too bedrooms available (sleeping next to another of my room mates). If we define one's bedroom as where one sleeps, then I either do not have a bedroom or I have three.
We see each other naked often. Between showering and dressing (we also share clothes), just lazing about for the day, or just because it's too damn hot, my home is what some would consider to be a "naked house".
Bathroom space and time is also shared. It is very rare that the four of us ever lock the door. We've plucked, shaved, styled, and manicured while sharing the bathroom space with a room another. We have showered together, and even brushed our teeth while another took a shit. Admittedly we aren't exactly privy to each other's sexual lives, but when we need to claim a space for a roll in the hay we are straighforward and blunt. "I don't know how to say this, but I am going to your room (where the computer is) to masturbate, so don't come in for a sec," my room mate confesses to me on a Saturday afternoon. "I'm coming in", a room mate yells from behind my door, "so stop touching yourself!". Needless to say we are all very open with our personal lives and possession.
Our "Naked, hippy, commune" (as one of my room mates call it) is the single best protest against our capitalist consumer society that I can think of. Ownership is completely overlooked. "What is mine is your and what is yours is mine" is the apartment's mantra. And this mantra does not make special exceptions for any special (house) guests.
Because we don't "own" or "possess" anything, or maybe it would be better to say that because we "Own" and "Posess" everything, we rarely fight. We all accept the rules of the land and we have learned to love it. And because of this unique arrangement, my room mates and I have developed a family of sorts, with all of us playing father, mother, brother, and sister at different points in our time together. We share with each other the intimate personal details of our lives. So, like everything else in the apartment, my love is your love and your love is my love. Multiply that love by four, and counting our house guest (who is getting used to the situation three weeks in to his four week stay) making it five, that's alot of hippy dippy groovy love.