Yes. I am in Connecticut visiting one of the ungrateful bastards and seeing the sights.
I am somewhat proud of the ungrateful bastard that got into the Coast Guard Academy. (I am somewhat proud of all of the ungrateful bastards, but I would never admit that out loud. Never.) I crammed my fat ass into a large powered aluminum tube with wings and endured a thousand years of putting up with other people in a confined space. Such is my dedication to the cause. I would not travel 3000 miles for just anyone.
The flight was full and I was in a middle seat. I am not good with this kind of confinement, but maintained an appearance of good manners. At one point I had to go to the tiny restroom just to get some space. It is not the confinement that gets to me; it is being confined with people. I know what an object or a device is capable of, but I never know what people can do.
Our Motel is a fine example of retro decay. Being just run down is one thing, but having holes in the wall because of out of control behavior and a door that has obviously been smashed in does not make me feel safe and comfortable. The wallpaper is peeling, the drains don’t work properly, and the TV does not work with the remote at all. I feel like I have checked in to some third world country and this is the best hotel in town.
This place is quiet though. We might be the only people here. Perhaps this is the residence of a serial killer that targets fat out-of-towners and sells their skin to wealthy degenerates in other countries to cover their overstuffed furniture. Maybe I am destined to become a cover for a throw pillow in some unpronounceable country in Africa.
Nope. I think it is MUCH more likely that I am in a place that is not very busy because it is a bit run down and not in a very active area. That is why it is affordable.
At least my imagination is working again. I need to get away more and get the brain and other organs functioning properly. Last night I had a dream in which I had Jennifer Lopez naked and in varying erotic positions. I did not pop a stiffy in my dream or in my sleep. That is pitiful. Maybe I need a little blue pill or some attachment for the vacuum cleaner. Tell all your friends; getting old sucks.
Sigh.
How does one go about asking hotel management for a vacuum cleaner?
