home

The apartment I bought ten years ago for $100K is worth five times that, at least. People tell me "cash in. Sell it. Imagine all that cash." It is tempting. I would most likely never have the chance to gain that kind of wealth otherwise. But then, after the last few days, I think that it would be impossible. This is my home. It is my place of comfort that I have been seeking for so many years. I remember when I lived in Chicago, and I tried so hard to make my ramshackle apartment feel like home. And how every time I would come back there, after being away, I would feel so utterly gloomy and would be filled with an empty yearning for someplace else. Now I can't imagine leaving here. Even for half a million dollars. Of course, someone reading this might think I am a fool. But many people care about money far more than I do.

But last night, laughing with my friends, I realized it more than ever. After such a difficult week, to be so comfortable in my space, the warmth of Bao and Thierry lighting up the place, watching Mabel flirt and preen, and seeing Tuna and Pomona snoozing on the bed, I felt so happy. When I went to bed, very late, I fell asleep effortlessly. Well, the whiskey helped...