The Hotel California

I'm not actually in the Hotel California, but it feels like it. I am going to try to shorthand this for you because even though this update is typed with my two little hands, I am losing my voice. And somehow, it feels as if my sore throat is attached to my hands, and neither wants to move in the mechanical way they are supposed to.

I've been teaching at a client site for two days and have one more day to go. This means I've been talking nonstop from 8:00am to 4:30pm for two days straight--well, we've been laughing a lot too. Actually, my students and I had quite a good time, despite the fact I've had a migraine since one o'clock this morning.

The headache was not due to the almost constant noise coming out of the "posse" in the hotel room next to me, but it sure didn't help. Long story short: knocking on doors all night long; talking loudly in the hallways; and numerous people continually walking through the hall from two feet outside my door to the outer door and back--all night long.

I'm tired. I haven't slept since Monday, and I could no longer handle the environment on the second floor.

Long story shorter: Kimi to the front desk; very patient, but probably mildly frightened young, male receptionist/concierge; Kimi gets a new room on the first floor--far away from the disruptive "guests."

I am now going to switch out of the third person and go back to typing in the first person, as God intended it.

I reside at the moment in what I call the Charlie Sheen Penthouse. This suite--which has a patio door leading to the pool--is BIGGER than our house in Tucson. Not hard to do, but the sheer magnitude of this room causes anxiety. The bathroom itself is larger than half of our house in Tucson--are we getting a visual yet? (Our house in Tucson is 480 square feet!).

The bathtub, complete with swirly jets, is large enough to host a pool party for Mr. H, myself, all four Chihuahuas, the white Husky, and the soon-to-be-at-Homer-Hollow, Miniature horses.

Exhibit A:

The gnomes (sitting on the edge of the tub) are waiting
 for the water to become the perfect temperature.

Again, not that that would EVER happen, but I'm just giving you a spatial image with which you can focus on. In all honesty, Mr. H and I might share a bathtub, and Loki and I share a shower (his white "feathers" get dirty!), but that's it!

Exhibit B:

Though the wall-mounted blow dryer in my new suite already tried to taser me, and there is a women's aerobics class going on right outside my door in the pool area, it is still much, much quieter down here than on the second floor.  As I was holding my 12-inch lettuce wrap in one hand, I peered out through the patio door curtain to indeed confirm that the loud music coming from the pool was an aerobics class.  I made a mental note: yup, still thinner than everyone in the class-- so I continued to finish my sandwich.