nightly routine

I went to wash my face and brush my teeth; you know the usual routine before heading off to bed anywhere I happen to be laying my head to rest. I walked into the yellow bathroom with a touch of familiarity much like I feel when I am in Manchester or Paris. I looked for a bit for the washcloth and then set up my dop kit next to the sink. It should have been like clockwork for me to put the washrag somewhere to dry but I had to hesitate asking myself where I used to put it prior.

I am home currently, the real home, the one in which I have my name attached to a deed somewhere in a vault.
It feels odd.
I walked to the lobby and turned to the elevators, there is a distinct smell with my building. I walked into the elevator and noticed a new floor. Doors opened to the fourth floor and I made my way with ease to the right and around the corner. I had trouble with the lock but that is just me and my relationship with locks. I walked into an immaculately clean place. A touch of familiar but not as much I as have longed for as I lay awake hours before the wake up call. I just walked around in a daze opening cabinets and looking at my things.
My glasses, my blender, my matches, my bowls, and spices. It was so very odd to think of these things as my own. My old life lay here before my eyes and at my finger tips. I sit here now at my old desk, my desk that has been with me for ten years and seen much inspiration, hurt, and joy.

I sit here now wondering where I am in every sense.