Do I feel like I'm home?

... not sure really. Flew back into JFK last night on a delightful BA 777 aircraft. Flight was fine, trip to airport was no problems - I was on a conference call all the way from packing in the flat to getting off the Heathrow Express at Terminal 4 - certainly takes away the need for a book. I hung out in the BA lounge happily chomping on tomato soup, bagels and salmon and some heavy chocolate slices. Then of course I had to have lunch on the plane as well. I reset my watch as soon as I sat down, and tried to pretend it was really NY time already. Service was fine - the usual dehydrate and please sleep approach from our safety crew. I do love the way that airlines now stress that the flight attendants are there for YOUR safety. But they also throw food at you every now and then... Can you imagine if fire fighters took a break from the station to come out and serve coffee to passers by? Or if the police force every hour or so walked out of their police stations and provided some Krispy Kremes to the homeless? If that really was true, how you would describe your skills set on a resume as a flight attendant - "I can leap buildings in a single bound, survive a smoke filled cabin, direct passengers in event of an emergency landing on water, but I also serve a great cup of cold tea"?? Hmmm.
As usual, my bags were the last ones off the plane, but I was still smiling from my customs experience. They are always so lovely, and I usually get a "you have a nice day now, ma'am" once they are done with the retinal scans.
Wheeled the bags out, and this time my chariot driver did await. He was a small Algerian man (who explained about his problems with humidity), and then was very musical all they way into the city. He reminded me of a camel herder I had in Egypt when climbing Mount Sinai. My knee was not up to the huge climb, so I caught a camel up the mountain (65 Egyptian dollars seemed a bargain). The camel was attended by a lovely man, who every 5 seconds or so of the few hours, would tap the camel on the rump whilst making the following musical noises "heeermmmm, hooorrrrrrm, tsk tsk tsk" and then spit. It was so melodic and relaxing I actually fell asleep on the camel when not looking up at the very starry sky. Well, my chariot driver was a bit the same - every 10 seconds or so he would huff and puff quietly and companiably. More like "sh sh shs sh shsh". It chimed in with my blackberry which did not work for my two weeks in London, and so vibrated constantly for about 20 minutes receiving all the emails it had missed out on. Quite relaxing all in all.
My apartment was waiting for me (taciturn doorman and all), and the flowers were happily dead in their vase. Quite odd - my cleaning ladies had done all the cleaning (twice, which would have been fun the second time since I hadn't been in - dusting anyone?), but apart from propping the dead flowers on the side support of the bed (why?), they seemed unclear as to whether I was becoming all Morticia Addams and liking dead plants, or whether it just isn't in the job description. All good anyway.
I headed out to the supermarket, got some supplies, and unpacked. So am I home or not? I really couldn't say. If home is familiarity it certainly is homely, and I certainly felt good seeing the Manhattan Skyline from the LIE, but I am not sure .... I am not missing Love Island in any case, or the feral next door neighbour in London...