Sometimes I come back to my hotel room to find a little special something left behind by housekeeping. No, it isn’t a tip. One of the girls here is a master in towel art. She can take ordinary facecloths, bath towels and floor mats and turn them into little sculptures. Yesterday there was a facecloth done into a flower with a little blue bar of soap in the middle. I also found a floor mat folded up into a pocket with a fanned out face cloth growing fernlike from its center. The problem is I feel I’m committing a sacrilege by using these little works of art. So, I preserve them pictorially in my cell phone where I can later transfer them to my computer for towel posterity. Otherwise, I’d have to resort to drip-drying after my shower.
I’ve been here so long I’ve already been through my first refrigerator. Yesterday, the motor burned out. I have no remorse over this. It had taken to making weird high-pitched sounds in the middle of the night. You’d think I’d be used to high-pitched sounds in the middle of the night, wouldn’t you. The loud speaker wall has certainly provided me with its fair share of them. The difference is the refrigerator didn’t make noise ALL night.
I had my monthly hair appointment today for a cut and color. I always look forward to this appointment. Besides affording me the assurance of looking neat and trim, if not slightly younger for the next three out of four weeks, it’s fun to get caught up on salon gossip. As usual, when my hair has reached its pre-determined state of processing I’m ready for the shampoo bowl. They have these neat massage chairs stationed before each bowl. Normally, I am guaranteed the enjoyment of a fairly stimulating massage as it goes up my lower back to my neck and then down again. Today I wasn’t even sure the chair was on. A low moaning sound from its base was the only proof the massage was even happening.
“Your chair sounds like it’s moaning,” I yelled to my hairdresser. “I think I just heard it moan, GET OFF ME.”
I am sorry to report that my throat has begun to wrinkle. This is so unfair. I lose a little weight on my face, and boom, I’ve exceeded Young’s Modulus. Isn’t that a bitch? So, today I decided to nip it in the bud by cruising the shelves for the latest innovation in skin rejuvenating miracles. For what they charge for this fountain of youth glop it damn well better work or you know it’s gonna wind up in this blog.
Girls, (or guys, if you’re prone to keeping your stuff in a purse) you have to check out bunbunbags.com. You can design your own bag with their fabric and styles or you can buy a ready-made one. In either case, you’re sure to love these purses. My clutch bag arrived today and it turned out perfect. Now I just need someplace to use it. Like a date.
I’ve been here so long I’ve already been through my first refrigerator. Yesterday, the motor burned out. I have no remorse over this. It had taken to making weird high-pitched sounds in the middle of the night. You’d think I’d be used to high-pitched sounds in the middle of the night, wouldn’t you. The loud speaker wall has certainly provided me with its fair share of them. The difference is the refrigerator didn’t make noise ALL night.
I had my monthly hair appointment today for a cut and color. I always look forward to this appointment. Besides affording me the assurance of looking neat and trim, if not slightly younger for the next three out of four weeks, it’s fun to get caught up on salon gossip. As usual, when my hair has reached its pre-determined state of processing I’m ready for the shampoo bowl. They have these neat massage chairs stationed before each bowl. Normally, I am guaranteed the enjoyment of a fairly stimulating massage as it goes up my lower back to my neck and then down again. Today I wasn’t even sure the chair was on. A low moaning sound from its base was the only proof the massage was even happening.
“Your chair sounds like it’s moaning,” I yelled to my hairdresser. “I think I just heard it moan, GET OFF ME.”
I am sorry to report that my throat has begun to wrinkle. This is so unfair. I lose a little weight on my face, and boom, I’ve exceeded Young’s Modulus. Isn’t that a bitch? So, today I decided to nip it in the bud by cruising the shelves for the latest innovation in skin rejuvenating miracles. For what they charge for this fountain of youth glop it damn well better work or you know it’s gonna wind up in this blog.
Girls, (or guys, if you’re prone to keeping your stuff in a purse) you have to check out bunbunbags.com. You can design your own bag with their fabric and styles or you can buy a ready-made one. In either case, you’re sure to love these purses. My clutch bag arrived today and it turned out perfect. Now I just need someplace to use it. Like a date.