Last night, we were booked into the Country Inn at Humble. By the Executive Assistant of our company, who, by all things that are holy, should know better. Janie, the queen of Hotel Rooms Extraordinaire, was not amused.
The parking lot? DARK. The room was d.i.r.t.y. Mold was growing up the tub, I kid you not. And, the straw that broke the poor camel’s back? The air conditioner did not work. And Houston, people, is FrenchSpanishIrish for freakin’ HUMID. (I’ve bitched about that before on this blog, I know.) I was on the third floor, so I opened my windows. Mistake, mistake, mistake. Two car alarms went off in the night, which only exacerbated my hormonally hot, sleepless, state. Women over a certain age cannot sleep in 75 degree rooms. (Men, if you don’t know that already, you need to seriously get a clue – it might extend your life a couple of years.)
On top of that, my DNA makeup was designed by the God of Straight Hair. Straight Hair, combined with humidity, equals Even Straighter Hair. Add that to a 75 degree room – no amount of Big Hair Hairspray is going to help. No Texas Big Hair for me today…
Tonight, one of my fellow salesmen booked the Days Inn in Robstown. I was secretly scared to death. Every time I’ve stayed at a Days Inn (maybe once in the last 15 years), it’s smelled like…never mind.
I just arrived. Tom Bodett left the light on for me. The desk clerk, Isabel? Smiling, professional, called us by our names, helped us out tremendously. The room? Spotless. The wireless? FREE. The bathroom? Again, spotless. Towels? Smell like DOWNY. No kidding.
Okay. Now, I’m going to sleep. I’m not even going to check your blogs, though I miss you dearly. I’ll catch up with you in a couple of days. For tomorrow, princes and princesses of my heart, I’m heading 30 minutes down the road to the King Ranch. I’m excited.
Y’all have a blessed Friday! Pictures and stories (I’m sure!) to come.
Oh, hell. I just remembered – Tom Bodett is Motel 6. Menopause – just another reason for forgetting stuff. Heh.