I have a weird sense of place. I was lucky; we didn’t move around a lot when I was a kid — I guess four times, and never very far. I haven’t really moved around a lot as an adult either; again, four times so far.
It doesn’t take a lot of stuff for a place to feel like home to me, either — as my BBS era friends always said, home is where the computer is. One thing I have figured out, though: a place has to be “mine”. I lived with my aunt for a couple of months right out of high school, and that was Not Home. Same with the week or two I stayed with my mom when I was between apartments after I’d been out of the house for a year — she hadn’t really changed my old bedroom any, but it wasn’t mine anymore. I also don’t enjoy staying with her when I’ve been back to visit since moving here.
I don’t know if this is because I hate imposing on people, or I’m a control freak, or some other pile of neurosis. I do have a thing about wallowing in my own filth vs. someone else’s, but that’s just an excuse. I stayed with herself’s mom when I first got to California since I had a hell of a time finding an apartment and while she keeps one of the cleanest houses around, I was still on pins and needles — the carpet felt weird under my feet.
Sometimes hotels are okay, and sometimes they’re not. The lighter, more contemporarily decorated ones seem to work better for me for some reason, and of course they’re more expensive. I don’t honestly believe they’re any cleaner than the Motel 6 at half the price, but the new paint makes them seem cleaner.
I don’t really miss my stuff when I’m traveling since I carry my computer with me, but bizarrely I miss my clothes. I don’t even have that inventive of a wardrobe, but I like to have all my options open, and I especially like having a different t-shirt to wear to bed. Overpacking is a constant struggle for me.
When I was looking for apartments out here and I finally settled on this one, I just kind of knew this was the right place. I don’t know why, and this apartment has been far from perfect, but it resonated with me.
So, yeah. I don’t know what all of this means. I guess I just need a big suitcase, high-speed internet, light-colored carpet, and a bill at the end, and I’m good to stay as it were.