Agent Astrid Farnsworth lives in a ridiculously small apartment where she crashes whenever the Bureau lets her, whenever there's no complicated scientific event of great importance going on, whenever the planet is not in danger, and whenever Walter hasn't taken to his heels again. She spends so little time there that dust accumulates, dishes in the sink and mail pile up behind the door too.
So little time that she has trouble saying "my place" and sometimes imagines that she would be better off taking her mattress and finding herself some quiet little place in the lab to call home.