In almost three decades of marriage, we have owned only three houses (and a cottage). That’s not much moving, so we don’t think of ourselves as the nomadic type, until we count the number of times we have shuttered those houses to take up residency elsewhere – and that would be four, or five, depending on how you count it.
At one point, we had keys to four homes on three different continents, and I could have told you where the can opener was in every kitchen but the one that I happened to be standing in.
This comes to mind now because I woke up this morning with the urge to surf apartment rental websites. I don’t know why I want to do this. Our hotel is quiet, close to everything and compared to tying ourselves to a lease, very flexible.
And yet, here I am, looking at apartments.