Another "forgetting-where-you-live" story.
A little under two years ago, I took possession of my current home, which I named Casa Asbestos on account of the huge amount of work it needed doing to make it habitable - including the removal of asbestos.

One of the more easily-fixed problems was that the bay windows at the front had very rotten frames. However, they also had leaded lights which, while not particularly breathtaking, were at least characterful. I decided that, given the size of the rennovation job, I might as well get the old glass inserted between the panes of new double glazing.

This, of course, meant that the old windows had to be taken away and the gaps boarded up for the few weeks that it'd take to clean, restore, and remount them. Fair enough: not pretty, but worth it.

However, I must have got over-used to the idea that I lived in the house with boarded-up windows, and that must have become my visual cue for finding my own home. And this meant that, when the glass was finally replaced, I did managed several times to drive straight past my own front door, only to sit in puzzlement as I tried to work out where I lived.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 26 Mar 2013, 14:24, Reply)