This afternoon I arrived with a delay of more than three hours – going to the dentist is paradise compared to flying nowadays – in my apartment in Dublin. It was pouring rain, but despite the rain, the delay; a sensitive jaw because of the smacks I have received Saturday I was glad to be home.
The lady who is taking care of the apartment had done a wonderful job, as always.
(Of course this doesn’t imply that New York is not home – I’m not monogamous when it comes to being home.)
Nevertheless I would like to have a third apartment, maybe somewhere in Latin America, because you never know.
Once upon a time I had a bank account in Bolivia.
Alexander Hemon said that home is where someone notices your absence. But that someone can be your account manager as well.