Pointy Toilet Paper

/ wvfurandroot / 5 Comments

I’ll finish the furnace story tomorrow, but right now I’m dwelling on the irony of the fact that last night I was home with no heat in the house. Tonight, I have heat at the house, but I’m in a Best Western in Charleston.

That’s how ridiculous my life is. Timing is everything in life and my timing needs work.

But here I am. And I must say I’m impressed. My frugal boss made the reservations and, while I wasn’t expecting Magic Fingers or mold in the bathroom, I also wasn’t expecting a king sized bed covered in pillows and pointy toilet paper.

The job before this job I did a fair amount of traveling. Between that and personal travel, I spent a fair amount of time in hotels and motels. My traveling days ended before the “luxury bed” was all the rage with the cool hoteliers. You know when trends start trickling down to Best Westerns in Charleston, WV, said trend has gotten pretty mainstream.

I rather like this pillow thing. I have a bunch of pillows on the beds at home as well as sinfully high-thread-count sheets and ambient lighting. These things make for a nice drifting-off-to-sleep experience. To find such a set up here is a nice change from floral or striped bedspreads that probably haven’t been cleaned as often as one would hope.

Pointy toilet paper has long puzzled me. Pray tell, what is the point? Some poor soul earns a meager living cleaning rooms and part of his or her job duties is to fold toilet paper. It’s ludicrous. But if such a thing is deemed a necessity and the bathroom has two toilet-paper-holders, shouldn’t the points be the same size and shape? The lack of symmetry here bothers me. This hotel loses 5 Martha Stewart points for this egregious act. I bet the maid did it on purpose. I would.

[Mmmmm. I just put on my nightgown and crawled into bed. The linens aren’t as wonderful as one would hope – but nice nonetheless; and the experience is so much better than last night’s shivering under a down which just couldn’t keep up with the cold. No down on this bed. Pity that.]

Of course, the coffee pot falls short of my requirements. With the trek down the hill carrying luggage, the travel pot had to stay at home. I’m offended by the Styrofoam cup. I’ve got pillows, pointy toilet paper, high-end soap with an ergonomic design, but a Styrofoam cup. Go figure. If I can’t have a real cup, can’t we do better than flimsy Styrofoam? It’s a travesty, I tell you. More Martha points lost.

There’s no room service, but the clerk says hot breakfast is served in the morning. I believe I’ll partake.

So, if this post reads oddly it’s because the double u key and the snake shaped keys won’t work.  I’ve had to manipulate spell check and control v to type this. 

Never a dull moment. Timing is everything in life. And now I must go to sleep. Big day tomorrow.

Bad cup or not, I’d like to vacation here for about a double-u-eek.  I really like the bed.  I do, I do.

Had Enough, I have I have.

/ wvfurandroot / 4 Comments

It’s 50F in the house and I’m a wee-bit annoyed. The electrician that performed $1500 worth of re-wiring 15 days ago is supposed to “stop by” this morning to check things out. I’m afeared the snow will keep him from getting here. Or something else, like a paying customer – I have no intention of paying him a cent for today’s adventure; and I think he senses that. If I do open the checkbook it will only be after he does a lot of convincing.

While I have lights, I do not have hot water or heat; and the hot tub hasn’t kicked on to circulate water since yesterday afternoon.

Yes, I have lights, a space heater and a kerosene heater, but still I woke up to 49F in the house. As for the lights, they dim and flicker.

I’m more than just annoyed. I’m cold and mad. I have had enough.

Ancient burial ground? Or incompetence?

I drained the last bit of hot water to take a shower and wash the spackle dust out of my hair. I cannot find the blow dryer. So much for everything I learned in Girl Scouts – chiefly Be Prepared. 

[As for Be Prepared, I think that’s why I’ve been a gross over-packer for my entire life.  Now that airlines are charging for luggage, things could get expensive.  Well.  That was a stupid statement.  My entire life is getting expensive.]

I have the tea kettle on top of the kerosene heater – I think it seems friendlier that way. Besides, it’s a small (and futile) attempt to make the damn thing more aesthetically pleasing. 

The puppies are nestled in Cadillac of Dog Beds. Was my braving the perils of the Beelzebub of Bobbinhood a tempting of fate? Or Be Prepared? I also had a full tank of kerosene.  [I guess some of that Girl Scout training sunk in aside from over-packing for vacations and business trips.]

Things could be worse. I guess. I’m probably tempting fate by saying that.

So. I have a raging case of the Crankies punctuated by welling tears of frustration.

I’ve had enough. Winter needs to be over.

Every year about this time, the longing for Spring reaches fever pitch. The cooling that fall brings is welcome after the Dog Days. Finding the $10 bill in my wool coat always sets a nice tone to the beginning of winter. I rather enjoy hot chocolate in the early days of frigid temperature. But by Valentine’s Day, I am so so tired of winter and the ensuing challenges. That’s never been truer than this year.

I have had enough.

I need to begin thinking about 2010 Gardenpalooza.

Unrepeatable

/ wvfurandroot / 9 Comments

What do Eric Clapton, Dexter and dog biscuits have in common? They, and a multitude of other surprises, were my Valentine’s gift from HMOKeefe.

The man has a knack for giving the exact perfect things at the exact perfect times.

It’s a marvel.

He sent me not one, but two, boxes. They arrived Friday and I opened the packing boxes just enough to make sure the contents were intact. And then I closed the boxes back up to wait for Valentine’s Day. [I drive people crazy with that. For me, the anticipation of opening is almost as exciting as the gift. I’ve been known to wait until after the New Year to open Christmas gifts.]

I noticed when checking the packaging that there were dog biscuits. I had to smile. If not for HMOKeefe my dogs would never have treats other than the occasional marshmallow. [All three of the dogs would produce cold fusion in their water bowl if they thought it would get them a marshmallow.]

The two boxes have been setting on my kitchen table for two days. After a couple cups of coffee and the fixing of my DSL jack (long story), I opened the boxes.

Woo Hoo! Too much fun. Besides dog biscuits, inside I found books including how to go about writing your first novel in six months, a kaleidoscope, green M&Ms, an Eric Clapton and Steve Winwood CD, hand and foot warmers (presumably for my trek up and down the hill in the snow), a refrigerator magnet, candy, and panties.

The magnet reads You are unrepeatable. There is a magic about you that is all your own… I think that applies more to him than me. I’ve never met a man like HMOKeefe. He is the perfect man.

Now is that a plethora of treasures or what?  There was also a season’s worth of Dextor episodes nestled in there.  Woo Hoo!  Blood spatter and a serial killer for Valentine’s Day. Damn, I love that man. 

Much of it, including Dexter, was packed into a heart-shaped, red box which reminded me of an earlier Valentine’s Day. One year, along with a lot of other things, HMOKeefe sent me nesting boxes vividly emblazoned with roses. As a child, I loved playing with the Barrel of Monkeys that featured nesting barrels and a tiny monkey in the smallest one. I love Russian nesting dolls. I love containers. I’ve had those boxes, nested, sitting here and there pending completion of the painting and decorating projects for a long time.

After seeing the heart box of this year’s gift, I stacked the boxes and put them in the corner of my dressing room – for months now, that corner has cried for some decoration or furniture. They’ll be perfect there.  [The stack is as tall as I am.]

I know just what to put inside each of those boxes.

Friday night I began the onerous task of cleaning out, organizing, and painting my study. Like the family room project, I’ve only been threatening to do this for years. [And the family room project has turned out fabulous. I’m three for three on drama-free painting jobs – I have high hopes for the study.]

HMOKeefe frequently sends me letters and cards. I save them. I have stacks and stacks of them. Periodically, I like to go through them and re-read them, but they’ve gotten unwieldly and some of them have been packed away and buried in one of the three Closets I Am Afraid Of. [No kidding, you can’t believe how many there are and you can’t believe what a mess those three closets are – you’d be afraid too.]

Those boxes will perfectly house his words of affection. [And, Dman? You best get writing – I’m going to need more or the boxes will topple over.]

And speaking of love letters, my Valentine’s Box also included a love letter scrawled on a legal pad and tucked into a beautiful card. He once made fun of me for sending him a letter written on Mead 3-hole punched, college ruled notebook paper. Again, I had to smile.

One of HMOKeefe’s great charms is that he makes me smile with his thoughtfulness and caring. I do love this man. In answer to his question in the letter and on this morning’s voice mail, yes, I will be his Valentine again this year.

He mentioned the other day that we should start looking at engagement rings. I was rather nonplussed since we have yet to live in the same zip code. [For those of you who don’t know, he lives near Boston.]

I reminded him that I used to think I didn’t like diamonds until I discovered that actually what I didn’t like was small diamonds. I haven’t heard another word about engagement rings since. It was with some relief that there was not a ring in one of those two packages.

The relief centered on the fact that I would like the experience of shopping together with him to find the perfect ring. HMOKeefe likes to shop – one of the many things I like about him. I think it would be fiercely romantic and a lifetime memory to choose it together. Besides which, I desperately need a manicure.

This blog posting is my Valentine to him. I think he’ll enjoy it – a love letter of sorts – not the norm, but that’s what I love about his gifts to me – wonderful little oddities packaged with love.

And, yes, I will marry him. [Probably not today, DMan, but, yes, I will marry you.]

Love, Connie (jamming to Clapton and Winwood)

[The puppies don’t know it yet, but they’re about to get a Valentine.]