Living out of a suitcase: it's not ideal

I'm all at sixes and sevens right now. Living in Jersey has been unexpectedly wonderful, but all good things must come to an end and now, with August underway, I need to engage with where I want to live in September. (The boys are wonderful, generous, kind hosts but I cannot impinge on them for too long.)

As I was based in the West Coast for nearly two months, and followed that with trips to England & to Switzerland, I've barely spent any time in New York this year, the city in which I ostensibly live.

I've been surprised at how visceral my reaction has been when I've made fleeting visits: I love New York passionately, and feel a thump to the chest when I arrive at Penn Station each week on my work trips. (Although I am perversely relieved that it has rained so much there this summer otherwise I might have felt I was missing out on all the fabulous Manhattan outdoor activities.)

But.

Because I took the decision to leave full time employment again last year, and I have no family, boyfriend or dependents here in America, I can live anywhere I like, so long as I have an internet connection. I'm suffering from an embarrassment of choice.

My plan at the beginning of the summer was to move to the West Coast in September, at least until Christmas, and probably longer, to finish my book, get a different perspective on America and spend time with my wonderful friends out there, whilst flying back to NY once a month or so.

One thought is to take a lease on my own place in Manhattan, ship over my stuff from the UK and use that apartment as my American base, renting it out for holiday and work lets whenever I am in Los Angeles.

Or I could just commit wholeheartedly to LA.

I think the reason why i am twitching so much is that I'm getting too old not to have a permanent base. I miss my London flat enormously: I own it, and lived there for eight years, decorating it and making it mine. Living out of suitcases, storage containers and the boots (trunks) of cars as I have done this year is unsettling and no way for a grown-up to conduct their life.

Really, what I need to do is get my book into proper shape, attack my other (exciting!) projects and rustle up some more long term freelance work, so I have some fiscal stability.

Maybe then the decision about where to live will be simpler.