“I was somehow convinced that the return to my house would envelop and embrace me and make me whole once more. In fact, the mix of comfortable familiarity and my own freshly acquired strangeness made me feel more dissociated than ever. There was too much “stuff” and I could never find anything that I wanted; trips up and down stairs were plotted like military operations, while coordination of my various remote controls — television, cable, DVD, CD – seemed a sadistic, Satanic test of memory.”