For about five years now I have refrained from using the word "home" to describe any of the places I have rested my head. I lived at 'Bill's Place' in Las Vegas ('06-'07) and then at 'the condo' ('08) also in Vegas. I literally was undomiciled for fourteen months ('09-'10) while traveling about the country and since March I have lived in the 'Berkeley apartment.' Ann Arbor ('00-'06) was probably that last time I recognized a place as home.
I am not actually adverse to finding a new home and certainly I have no problem calling the SF Bay region home, I lived here from '90 to '00 quite happily. I settle fairly easily into any place that can reasonably replicate a cave, but nothing has felt like home for awhile.
This comes up today because I have returned to the Bay area after fifty days in the Mt. Shasta/Weed/Lake Shastina environs of north-central California. I am not back in the Berkeley apartment yet, the slow pace of remodeling there still crawls forward. So I am in the City staying with yet another seemingly willing friend, I surmise I remain an entertaining interlude in the spare room.
In the next few days I will visit the apartment and assess the likelihood of re-occupancy in the relatively near future or thereabouts. But the search for 'home' continues.