I (heart) it here.

It used to be that when in America I would glorify England, and when in England I would pine for America. And when I was in neither I would wish to be back in one or the other. But I've been home-home for two months and I haven't thought once about wanting to be somewhere else. Except for wanting to be in my own apartment -- sleeping on the organic mattress that Hooman and I bought in a Pennsylvania steel town, on a soft pillow that doesn't give me a neck ache -- I haven't thought once about wanting to go back to Hoboken, even with twinkling Manhattan across the river.

Sure, I complain about not having anybody to talk to during the day, how hot it is, and how irritating it is to have so many insects crawling about the house. I don't like the haze and the mugginess, and there's a funny smell in trains and most buildings.

But this time I'm experiencing the country with my heart, in addition to eyes, nose, ears. And the heart forgives more easily than the five senses I guess. I don't mind it here. In fact, I like it.