Good To Be Home

I was in San Jose and San Francisco all last week, staying in perfectly nice hotels and all, but ... not home sweet home.

So it's nice to wake up in my own place and my own bed this morning. The only real Heavenly Bed!

MY PILLOW
MY SHEETS
MY READING LAMP
MY BOOK
MY BED

I made tea and drank it in a cup. Half asleep in my kitchen, my stuff is in place. My cabinet has my dishes, I know with barely opening an eye, just by reach where my morning tea cup is waiting for me. Ceramic white with blue flowers -- something Italian I bought a long time ago.

MY TEA
MY CUP
MY SPOON
MY KITCHEN FLOOR

I took a shower with bath gel, shampoo, conditioner.

MY SHOWER
MY BLUE OCEANUS BATH GEL
MY SHAMPOO
MY CONDITIONER
MY TOWELS

It makes a difference. Out my window are the noises I know and count on. In a hotel, there are other strange noises which squeak and squeal through the night, making my sleep a little more fitful than usual.

The predictability of it all is the ultimate luxury. It's me -- me where I live -- and my place knows me and I know my place.