My home used to be a hotel. I moved in after an expired relationship and considered it “transitional” living. I would be out and about for most of the day and only slept there. I worked in coffee shops. I didn’t see it as home because my definition of home was wrapped with a “picket fence”. But then a friend convinced me to make it feel like home because we all need a home, even while we’re waiting for one. The truth is where ever you’re living is your home. And if you don’t make it your home, you won’t have a place to recharge. It’s not a home thing. It’s a quality of life thing. We all need a place to refuel.