My grand dog and I must come to an understanding. Getting me up
to take a tour of the grounds at 4:45 a.m. is just not working for me. At the
hotel, I normally get up at 5 a.m. to use the bathroom, so that’s not the problem.  The difference is mine is indoors. Getting my face slapped with wind chill does not encourage me to easily fall back to sleep.

I was just drifting off at 6:50 when she came in to announce it was time to take her out again and to give her, her medicine. I supported myself on one elbow and said, “Are you kidding me?” I’m astounded she knows what time it is. According to my daughter, you can set your watch by her. I’m going to call her Timex. 
                 
Somehow I got up, took off my p.j.s again, dressed and took her out. At least she was productive. I tried to lay down when I got back but it was futile. I was SO groggy. Ever have
a sleep headache behind your ears? I went downstairs for a large cup of strong French Roast brew to try to wake up. I needed a lot of help. I’m still not sure if I ever did wake up today. 
                 
They have neat elevators in this building. As the doors open, a woman’s
voice announces “going down” or “going up.” I said, “Winnie how do they know
we’re going up or down?” She looked at me, shook her head and said, “Grandma,
you need to get out more.” 
                 
While on my 4:45 a.m. trip to the garden to take Winnie out, I noticed a stainless steel, modern style pool table through the windows. And, it’s in our building. It’s a regulation table too. I checked it out this morning when I went for coffee. Even the felt looks new. I wish Confidante were here. He wouldn’t be working and we wouldn’t be interrupted constantly during the game. We played one game at our hotel the night before I left to come here. He made sure he beat the socks off me as my goodbye present. Hunph.
                 
I figured I’d better do something fun while I’m here, or risk getting yelled at when I return to the hotel. If given the chance I will just write. So, I’m going to attend an alternative production of King Lear. I’m saving the explanation of alternative until tomorrow’s blog.
                 
Poor Winnie has thrown herself against the door to wait for her parents to come home. I tried to tell her they’re not coming home until tomorrow. For someone who knows what time it is, she hasn’t quite grasped the concept of 24 hours.

I left the hotel I live in to go to an apartment for the weekend.
And, I’m thinking how weird this feels. I don’t know why, but it does. I’ve gotten
used to the “dorm-like” atmosphere of the hotel where companionship abounds. How
did I ever live in an apartment before? 
                 
Stupid is as stupid does and I’m glad I bought my hair products and then
left them in the closet at the hotel. Figures, since I got my hair cut short the
day before I left and I needed them to give it volume. In all this wind I
suppose I’m already getting enough volume.
                 
I had a tug of war with my grand dog today. It was slightly embarrassing
too. She was determined to drag me across several lanes of a busy city street,
where I have no idea where she was taking me, and I’m tugging her to go back in
the direction from which we came. I was afraid she’d break the leash. There I am having an arguement with a dog in the middle of the sidewalk. Do I trust she knows where she’s going? Maybe she did. Who knows? I’m the grandma and I say we go the other way.
                 
I managed to have a productive day in spite of getting up early to watch
the Royal wedding. I wanted to go right out and buy a fancy hat, although I have
no idea where I’d wear it. Maybe I could wear it while I exercise in the
gym.
                 
Speaking of which, my exercise routine is going to need some adjusting.
It seems it’s not enough to do cardio, weights and stretching. You also have to
do them without getting shin splints, IT band problems (whatever that is)
sciatica, and hip problems. Apparently, you have to get your muscles taut, your
joints loosened, and your spine flexible enough before you cause injury to the very things you’re trying to get in shape in the first place to be able to be taut, loose and flexible. I didn’t understand what I just said, either.
                 
Will the guest who stole the scale from the hotel gym along with the eight pound weight ball please return them. We know you’ve hidden them in your room. The cameras in the hallway caught you sneaking into the gym at 2 a.m. The joke’s on you. The scale was off
five pounds so you didn’t really see the results you thought you had from throwing a silly eight pound ball around. I need the ball back. I was using it to keep the mat from curling up.
                 
After being open almost two years, the hotel finally supplied each room with an ice bucket. Unfortunately, there are no ice machines on any of the floors, which means, you still have to haul yourself downstairs to the lobby to ask for a bag of ice. Go figure.

For those of us with more important concerns, we now sport two huge coffee urns and another for hot water during breakfast. I no longer have to be downstairs by 7:30 to get my caffeine fix like I did before the former and smaller urns ran out. Even the coffee beans taste better. AND, we have those cute little non-dairy creamers in hazelnut, amaretto and Irish coffee. I tell you—mornings don’t get any better than this.  And, it’s free!

In case you were wondering where my post was yesterday, we had a slight problem with the weather: a severe thunderstorm, high winds, rain and something about a pesky little tornado warning. I watched a heavy black wall of clouds lit up with lightning strikes pass very slowly in front of a series of fast moving clouds heading north. That’s when I decided to grab my laptop and pack it up…just in case.

After seeing the devastation created from the severe storms and tornadoes across the South last night and this morning it did give me pause over the timing of my departure for a trip up I95 North. I was heading right into it so I decided to wait until 11a.m. before leaving. I timed it perfectly. The wind and rain weren't the problems; the tractor trailers were. I wish the tanker who kept tailgating every car in front of it, including mine, had not blacked out part of the phone number on the rear of his tank… that would be the phone number you were to call to answer the question, “how’s my driving?” because I want your company to know you deserve to lose your license as well as your job before you cause someone to lose their life. You stupid idiot.

This is race weekend in Richmond and the hotel’s occupancy is full. I’m glad my
daughter picked this weekend for me to babysit my grand dog. Things get crazy
around here during race weekends. After drinking at the race all day, folks
return at night a lot louder than they were before they left. I wish I could get
into enjoying sitting all day in the hot sun “enjoying”a race, but I can’t. Not
to mention the noise. I’m more of an indoor spectator. No lines for the bathroom
and I get to relax in air conditioned comfort.

I have determined that commercial toilet paper dispensers were invented by someone who used them infrequently. Need I suggest which gender that might be? Have you ever noticed how frequently the toilet paper rolls are installed incorrectly so that both paper rolls come out at the same time? Also, when the bottom roll is empty but the cardboard is still in there, it’s almost impossible to pull the paper from the top roll without using one hand to push the top roll up and away from the empty bottom roll and the other hand to pull off the paper. If the top roll has been installed with the paper coming from 
underneath, it breaks off in bits and pieces. It’s bad enough women are trying to maintain their balance as they squat over the toilet gentlemen. Forcing us  into additional calisthenics by reaching forward and to the side to rip off a section of paper is not only awkward, it’s just wrong on so many levels.

Today is laundry day. Normally, this is no big deal except that  the soccer players are here for three days. If the mud all over the carpeting is any indication of what they’ve been playing on, I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of competition for the one washer and dryer in the laundry room. To get an earlier start on my day, I showered and dressed before going down for coffee. I run into Mark who asks me where I’m going because I’m dressed up. 
                 
As any woman will tell you, cause and effect has a lot to do with determining our wardrobe for the day. I only had one bra left. It was black. That meant I had to wear a black top. Since it was the end of my laundry week, the only black top I had clean was a dressy sweater. That determined I couldn’t wear blue jeans, so I put on black casual slacks. Because I’ve lost so much weight the waist was huge. I had to wear the sweater over the pants to cover the waistband. That required a belt because of the style of the sweater. The only belt I have is fortunately a black snake skin cinch. The cowl neck on the
sweater called for a necklace and I had just the right artsy thing to pull it all together. A cougar never knows where love will strike. Even in a laundry room.
                 
This is apparently not the same soccer team as last weekend. The boys are older and as far as I can tell, we still have one old and one new cue stick in residence. We have next weekend to worry about though. Another team is coming. One can only hope their managers will be as concerned about keeping their boys under control as the two here this weekend. Good job, gentlemen.
                 
I’m looking forward to seeing the first part of Deathly Hallows tonight. Yes, I’m one of “those” adults who’s into Harry Potter. I’ve bought every book and movie so far, but couldn’t bring myself to watch the beginning of the end when it hit the theaters. A friend of mine, also a Harry Potter aficionado,  brought me his DVD copy to play tonight. Even though I had preordered the book when it came out, it took me almost a year to bring myself to read it. I didn’t want the series to end. Laugh. I dare you.
                 
Time to switch out my winter clothes for summer. You’d have thought I was moving out today by the load of stuff I carried out of the room to bring to storage. My room is exceptionally neat so it’s a wonder how I managed to conceal everything. I felt safe in making the switch. Unlike the last time I tried, I  made it snow.

I’m going to diet hell. I know this because I ate a sausage and egg muffin for breakfast. I was in the mood for two egg patties and a bagel. Because they had to prepare so many sandwiches for the soccer team guests, they ran out of eggs. So, I chose one of the sausage and egg muffins already made. It was good too. Hit the spot with its spicey flavor. As I was throwing the aluminum foil wrapper away, it hit me. It wasn’t indigestion. I suddenly remembered how long it would take me to work off that sausage.

Almost like I thought it would lesson my offense, I decided to exercise which meant I hadn’t taken any break this week. My legs started cramping up after five minutes. In expiation, I kept walking anyway. I caught my reflection in the store windows as I walked by wearing my purple fleece jacket. My reflection looked like a grape. With my hood up, I
might even pass for a hungry tick.

I was still dressed like a piece of fruit when I stopped to talk at the front desk. My back was to him when Mr. Godiva walked behind me rolling his luggage. I looked just in time to see him heading for the elevators. “Oh, no, he’s leaving!” I whispered frantically to my friend and Confidante working the front desk. I wanted to tackle Mr. Godiva by his feet, except I didn't want his last memory of me to be looking like a sweaty grape.

Although I haven’t seen him yet, word has it another extended stay guest is back. He’s a strange duck. No one can get into his room to clean it. When he first arrived, he commandeered three small refrigerators for his room. Talk abounds they’re full of body parts but no one is certain.

For the past two weeks, there’s been a leak in the hallway ceiling on the way to the gym. A small, blue trash can had been placed on the floor to catch the drips, but you know how people do. Leave a garbage can in the middle of the hall and someone’s gonna put garbage in it. Recently, I noticed the drip has increased in size and speed while the ceiling
has developed a distinctly rounded, yet familiar bulge.

As the afternoon rolls on, more and more of the weekend commandos have checked in. You can always tell they’re here by the sounds of doors slamming in the hallways and people yelling to each other like they're still outside. Four p.m.—midnight, it doesn’t
matter. And,somehow they think by walking into the hallway to talk on their
cell phone they’ll have more privacy. Like the rest of us can’t hear 'em.  

It doesn’t look like I’ll be playing pool tonight. Said Confidante is off duty and I refuse to play with someone I can’t beat. Don’t tell him I said that. 


  

It was raining when I got up so I resigned myself to work out in the hotel gym. I made it through yoga and bench pressing weights, but by the time I finished doing Tai Chi I still craved cardio. I needed to be outside. I looked at the treadmill. Its red shut down key
stuck out what looked like a plastic tongue in my direction. I hate you too. You’re boring. You never take me anywhere. 

I donned my fleece jacket, set up Rihanna’s LOUD on my MP3 player and hit the street. I was in such a good mood I dance walked. In case you were the one watching me from the third floor window—get a life. The rain felt great on my face and I’m betting my complexion looks better than yours does. Nana nana nana.

My friend Ketta is concerned she will be electrocuted today at her hair salon. It’s been awhile since we had lightning. I assured her the salon must have grounded electrical plugs. She’s getting a perm anyway. What’s the problem? 

We’re expecting the same sports team from last weekend at the hotel. I know one of the players must be the little shit that stole the cue stick I searched for all over the hotel. This afternoon I was ready for him. I hid the cue sticks. Furthermore, I made a sign-up sheet,
so that in the future we will know who and what room to bill for the next heist. Don’t mess with me.

I researched the label “cougar” today, which seems rather predatory if you ask me. I wonder if a man thought of that moniker. What should women call older men who date younger women then? Delusional. 

I’m told they’re expecting a“surprise” inspection at the hotel sometime this month. Makes me wonder what they’re trying to find. I haven’t given up hope for the missing cue stick.

The fire alarm went off this afternoon. They frequently test the system but occasionally it’s a bad sensor. In either case, the alarm lets out a very piercing shriek, not unlike the one my mother let out when I was two and she discovered I was really eating a mud pie. I heard the door open across the hall from me so I decided to tell my neighbor it might just be another false alarm and I was going downstairs to check it out because the noise was now driving me crazy. OMG. It was the Adonis I saw checking in yesterday. If he fell under the category of eye candy, then this was Mr. Godiva himself. Tall, dark and handsome had the body of a runningback, which is what you would have seen me doing if the fire was real and I had left his trusting ass upstairs. 

Early in the evening I was standing in the lobby when Mr. Godiva walked behind me and patted me on the shoulder saying, “Hi, neighbor!” He touched me, and now my world will never be the same, because he touched me.
Sorry Barbra.


  

I’ve been told I exercise too much. Cougars do need to keep in shape. I promised to take a break every fourth day in spite of my addiction to moving. This morning it should have come as no surprise when after succumbing to guilt exercise fairies foiled my plans. 
                 
As is my customary routine, I went downstairs to the lobby dressed in my  work-out garb (or jammies depending on how badly I need caffeine) to grab a cup of joe to jump start my heart so I can move. Sometimes even cougars need a little incentive. After filling my favorite mug and picking up a complimentary copy of USA today, I took the elevator to my room. I made it successfully down the long hallway without spilling a drop. That’s when my luck ended.
                 
It was the door. The heavy door with a mind of its own. I transferred the  newspaper and the mug to my right hand and armpit, although I don’t know why because I’m not left-handed, except it felt easier at the time. I managed to insert the key and get the door partly open just fine. It was when I decided to slide the mug of coffee through the doorway while holding everything on my right side, and put the mug on the bathroom counter that it hit me. The door, I mean. This was not the kind of hot entrance I’d always dreamed of making. 
                 
The carpet fared as bad as my clothes. This was going to require more than a towel to soak it up. I requested the hotel’s steam machine. No hurry. I ate my breakfast.  Since I looked like drek with huge coffee stains gracing my chest and pants I made an executive
decision and canceled the work-out. I headed for the shower. 
                 
This is the same walk-in shower with a glass door whose floor was retiled the day before. Only the caulking wouldn’t allow me to close the door completely. What to do? When tugging didn’t work, I decided to slam it shut. Good, the glass didn’t break. As water cascaded over me I had an unsettling thought. What if I can’t get the door open when I’m done? I got a mental image of me yelling for help. Remember the glass door? 
                 
I know I should take more advantage of being a cougar. I’ve worked hard to get this body buff. I’ve even surprised myself with the number of inhibitions I’ve overcome since living in a hotel. If you’d have asked me twenty years ago if I could ever allow myself to be seen without makeup or with “bed-head,” I’d of said No Way. I think I’ve come a long ways in letting go of a negative body image I’ve held over the years. But naked?
                 
Now that’s another story. I am positive several guys who work here would have happily volunteered to be the one to hand me a towel after rescuing me. I’m just not sure how long it would have taken them to hand it to me. 

I made sure the door would open.

                
I’m surrounded by things that go bump in the night. The sources of my nightly sleep diversions are unaware I can hear every fart, snore, conversation and orgasm. I happen to live in a hotel. For the past nine months the only solid thing separating me from this entertainment is too little insulation, sandwiched in between thin drywall and two coats of paint. I swear.
                 
I am loathe to give up my room because of the quiet wall on the other side. Every other wall in this hotel is built like a loudspeaker.  Who needs a large screen TV with pay per view when your neighbor is free? I originally had the room next door. Then I had a problem with the noise coming from the room I have now. I know it’s the wall. Trust me. 
                 
Apparently most of the money went into the decoration of the hotel. I think it was designed by twenty year olds who either never stayed in a hotel themselves, or else if they had, they were too busy partying to hear themselves. Every surface in the public area is metallic, wood or concrete. Add to that the loud pop music in the lobby and you have sound ricocheting everywhere.
                 
But, I digress. This weekend some little shit stole one of the cue sticks from the pool table and broke the tip off the other one. There were only two good sticks to begin with. Ever tried playing pool having to share one stick? It’s inconvenient. They would have to break my favorite cue stick too. It was the boys. I could just tell something bad was going to happen by the way they disrespected the game. A cue stick is not a thin baseball bat.
Hunph.
                 
You’d be surprised what goes on in a hotel. Makes you wonder how people behave at home. Or, not, and that’s why they come to a hotel. This one is pregnant with material for a comedy routine. It would figure since this hotel is marketed to the age group who still has an active sex life. 
                 
Speaking of which, they came to redo the shower tile today. My room hasn’t seen that much banging in a long time. It’s not easy meeting men when you spend most of your time alone and writing in a hotel. I’d have an easier time finding that stolen cue stick than a date. I’m told I need a younger man to keep up with me. It seems there are plenty of men in their thirties who are looking for a cougar. I noticed in the dictionary that cougar is right below the definition for a couch potato. Cougars should not be after couch potatoes in my book.
                 
It’s not like I lack for attractors. Give me a break. A woman living alone in a hotel? I’m a veritable magnet for horny males, which happens to be every guy convinced he’s doing me a favor by reminding me of what he assumes I’m missing. Jimmy Stewart wasn’t the only one who had a rabbit for a friend. 
                 
I’m not saying I haven’t made some mistakes along these lines. Looking back, I’m amazed at how well I can ignore my own standards. Sometimes, getting out of your comfort zone is good for you. No harm, no foul.