For me, "my house" is the one I lived in when I was 10 to 15. It was in Ottawa Hills, Ohio, where I was very unhappy, but the house was great, and it is still my Platonic ideal of a house.

The only places I have lived almost as long were my first two apartments here in Basel, and neither of them has anything like the resonance of "my house."

(Posted as a comment on Steven Schroeder's blog about his house.)