Kevin sometimes complains because everywhere we go, I want to stay in a hotel. As soon as we get outside do the Lower Mainland, I’m game to set up camp for the night. There have even been times when I’ve suggested staying in hotels IN Vancouver.
My romanticized idea about hotels had me staying in them as soon as I met the criteria for check in. I’ve sampled the gamut since, luxuriating from posh palaces to road-tripping in tournament motels. I’ve noticed that no matter how fancy, it always feels like a treat.
I packed those thoughts away at pretty much the same time as when I zipped up that suitcase to come home. Last night, when we checked into this run of the mill Holiday Inn in Washington State, all that freedom from stuff came flooding back. (I’m noticing a theme this year. It involves stuff.) We’re spending the weekend here and even with my weekender suitcase and shoulder bag, I’ve got way more than I’ll ever need. Now, why can’t I translate that to home life? Well, I’m trying!
So, yes, hotel stays are awesome and I’m set to enjoy mine, crappy single serving coffee, bland artwork, unsteady wifi and all. I don’t even mind that there’s a J-Lo movie on right now. That’s saying something!