I recently spent a night at a hotel. I love hotels. I love places where I don’t make the bed. (Wait- that could be my bedroom. Let me rephrase.)
I love places where I don’t make the bed but the bed is made anyhow. By 3pm.
I find I think the same things every time I go to a hotel but they seem fresh and new each time somehow.
- This washer and dryer are better than mine. I should come here and do my laundry. Except I would be hanging out in a hotel for 6 hours twice a week. And I’ll have to carry my laundry through the lobby. And they may realize I’m not staying here anymore. (I’ve been known to stay in a hotel in my own town so I can get some writing done. And so I can sleep without waking up abruptly to find a child standing over me and then asking me for a drink of water they could get themselves.)
- How clean are these sheets? (This one usually only occurs when I’ve watched a 60 Minutes special on cleanliness within the month. I can put it out of my mind with more time.)
- Why doesn’t anyone make my bed for me?
- Does the plastic bag ice liner really protect the ice from germs when it doesn’t really fit the container?
- How did I pack an extra outfit for each child, swimwear and goggles for each child, an activity for car travel for each child, video game chargers so there will be no fighting, snacks for down time, and my husband’s itinerary and only one pair of undies for me?
- Why do I do all the packing?
- Next time, I’m getting my own room.