What happens during this season to turn otherwise normal people into idiots? Folks are going hard with finalizing their shopping during the last week of Holiday shopping. Traffic was in such a snarl yesterday I thought there’d been an accident. No. The cars were backed up for two miles heading for the mall. Last night I witnessed someone come flying out from a side street across three lanes of traffic without looking. This was fifteen minutes after someone else on a cell phone went through a stop sign. Fortunately, they didn’t meet up with the other guy who ran right through a red light. This year I decided not to shop in a store during the weekend or evenings. I no longer have the patience or the energy to handle being in a crowd of frazzled shoppers.
I refuse to allow myself to get sucked into the commercialism of Christmas. I attended a great Christmas Chorale this past week. Besides the fact the symphony and choral singers were excellent, it was a very peaceful opportunity to just sit still and listen to the music as it washed away the tensions brought on by the “other” side of Christmas.
Things have been pretty dead at the hotel as we get closer to Christmas except for the three days each week when we’re booked by business people. Frankly, I’m glad. Putting up with this infection has had me sacked out early, so no noise is a welcome treat. And, then…this morning someone “got it” in the shower. You could hear her grunting up and down each floor through the shower drains and vents. And, on a Sunday too. They were hardly cavorting in holy water. I’m sure.
Something happened to the heat in my room last night. I about froze myself to death in bed. I had to get up at 1:30 a.m. and put on a light jacket before diving back under the covers. My nose was so cold it felt like I’d fallen asleep in a meat locker. Even my winter jammies failed to keep me warm. Maybe they’re trying to get rid of me by freezing me out. Well, fine.
My cover got blown yesterday morning. I was coming out of my room when I noticed a man down the end of the hall looking at me. I couldn’t see his face clearly from the distance until I heard him say, “So, that’s where you live!” I put my finger to my lips and said, “SHHH! Don’t give it away.” He’s one of the locals I speak to on the street. They all know me as the writer living at the hotel, and he knows I prefer anonymity as to which hotel and what floor I live on. I know the neighbors across from the hotel must get a lot of entertainment from looking at guests who don’t pull the shades down in their rooms. Me? There’s never anything exciting enough going on in my room to be called entertainment. What I should do is hook up a receiver to the “loud speaker wall” in the room next door and broadcast those guests because that's where all the entertainment is happening.
I refuse to allow myself to get sucked into the commercialism of Christmas. I attended a great Christmas Chorale this past week. Besides the fact the symphony and choral singers were excellent, it was a very peaceful opportunity to just sit still and listen to the music as it washed away the tensions brought on by the “other” side of Christmas.
Things have been pretty dead at the hotel as we get closer to Christmas except for the three days each week when we’re booked by business people. Frankly, I’m glad. Putting up with this infection has had me sacked out early, so no noise is a welcome treat. And, then…this morning someone “got it” in the shower. You could hear her grunting up and down each floor through the shower drains and vents. And, on a Sunday too. They were hardly cavorting in holy water. I’m sure.
Something happened to the heat in my room last night. I about froze myself to death in bed. I had to get up at 1:30 a.m. and put on a light jacket before diving back under the covers. My nose was so cold it felt like I’d fallen asleep in a meat locker. Even my winter jammies failed to keep me warm. Maybe they’re trying to get rid of me by freezing me out. Well, fine.
My cover got blown yesterday morning. I was coming out of my room when I noticed a man down the end of the hall looking at me. I couldn’t see his face clearly from the distance until I heard him say, “So, that’s where you live!” I put my finger to my lips and said, “SHHH! Don’t give it away.” He’s one of the locals I speak to on the street. They all know me as the writer living at the hotel, and he knows I prefer anonymity as to which hotel and what floor I live on. I know the neighbors across from the hotel must get a lot of entertainment from looking at guests who don’t pull the shades down in their rooms. Me? There’s never anything exciting enough going on in my room to be called entertainment. What I should do is hook up a receiver to the “loud speaker wall” in the room next door and broadcast those guests because that's where all the entertainment is happening.