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Upon arrival back in the Netherlands I see a different world. The train leaving Schiphol Airport is filled with people. All wear a thick, dark artificial fur called winter coats, except me. For the commuters this morning ride starts their day. To me it is the end of a long journey.
Back home I my head is in a haze as I unpack my bag. My luggage turns into regular belongings as they return to their home base. The soft winter sun gives me a bit of trouble. My head is foggy. It takes days to get into the Dutch wake-sleep rhythm.
A couple of days later a shave would be nice. However, I haven't got a clue as to the whereabouts of my shaving tools. I scan the whole house, looking for the transparent plastic bag. It is like it seized to exist.
Over the next couple of days my stubbles grow into an itching beard. My need for a shave grows with it. But no matter how much I search, the plastic bag with bathroom stuff remains hidden.
Today, a week after arrival, I pack my laptop for a short journey. I routinely grab the blue linen bag and... stumble upon the transparent plastic bag, empty and stored away with the other bags.
But of course, I must have unpacked that plastic bags on auto pilot. That must have been with a foggy mind, shortly after arrival. It explains the encountered fragments in the bathroom. This whole unpacking did not stick in my memory.
The bathroom is where the half unpacked sponge bag. And yes, it does still include my shaving gear. Get rid of the itching bear now, smooth at last.
Location consistency irrespective of locations works smooth, until location dependance strikes back home.