laborious luxury
"Toothpaste!!"
There is a sudden knock at my door. And the man brings me toothpaste. Right to my door. Colgate Total Whitening. Not cheap stuff.
How LOVELY!
I have a bed--the sheets tucked so tightly I am afraid I won't be able to breath should I slide underneath, a full-size dresser--one full drawer for each pair of socks I packed, a miniature coffee maker--to smartly limit my caffeine intake, and travel size toothpaste at my beckon call--for the usual bi-daily routine, of course. Without it my electric toothbrush would be positively useless. I have a dentist appointment on Saturday morning, my phone tells me. And the television also reminds me that it might rain on Saturday, so I might want to think about bringing my umbrella. But not to worry because tomorrow will be sure to offer some patches of sun. For the time being, I think I shall bless this television and call her "Annie".
What more could a girl want?
Don't forget to take advantage of the free breakfast at the bistro in the morning. Starbucks is served there. And proudly too.
I close the blinds, check the peep hole, turn the deadbolt, flick on the bathroom light but leave the door resting on the edge of its hinge just so, and shuffle to the bed. Slippers shuffle. Peel back the covers--the afghan, the duvet, the top sheet, finally I see the bottom sheet--this bed is like a soft onion. I slip in, without disturbing the other side, as if someone else might need that space. I place my extra fourth pillow there. Horizontally. Parallel to me.
Clock blinks.
Eyes close.
And so ends an evening of laborious luxury.