Three Down, Three To Go~

The half-way mark has arrived.

The good news: Our family (Kirk, Vivian, me, Sammy cat and Bono the dog) has somehow made it through three weeks of living in a hotel.

The bad news: We still have three more weeks to go before we close on our new home here in Pensacola, Florida.

Can we do it without going insane? Time will tell, I suppose.

What can I tell you about hotel living? If I didn't have a child and pets, it would probably be quite fun, perhaps even romantic. Reality is not romance though. Our hotel life is not glamourous, not one single bit.

Do you need proof? Okay, let's examine the evidence:

Exhibit A - Two nights ago, around 2 a.m., our cat somehow rubbed against one of Vivian's noisy toys. Suddenly this Poltergeist object begins singing ABC's and other tunes in an eerie manner. This was just before Sammy Cat did his after-poop party dance in the litter box. Seriously, WHY do cats have to smack the sides of their toilet area like they are some kind of wrestler giving the smackdown?!


Exhibit B - Just when the cat settles down from his poop party, our dog Bono (better known as dumb as dirt Bono) begins wheezing and sneezing like he just inhaled several teaspoons of pepper. Really? Would anyone else like to join in on this pet insanity parade?

Exhibit C - When I breathe a sigh of relief that Vivian has slept soundly through our pets' shenanigans, she then begins stirring around and making her own moans and groans. Then she sits up, babbles and begins "rocking" herself back to sleep. And by rocking, I mean that she throws back her head and body against the playpen bed in a repeated, furious manner.  It's as if she is dancing at a heavy metal concert with Beavis and Butthead.  All she needs is a lighter to raise.

Exhibit D - Kirk and I begin complaining and conversing over our idiotic pets, our lack of privacy in our tiny living quarters and how tired we feel.  Soon Kirk falls asleep and I'm up for at least another two, (usually three), hours before I drift off, only to be awakened by a 5:50 a.m. alarm time.


Exhibit E - Repeat scenarios from exhibits A, B, C and the part of D where I'm up alone, unable to sleep.

Exhibit F - I wake up and don't know what day it is or where I am.  

Despite the insanity and my insomnia, I try to remain upbeat. Fresh air does wonders for the soul. I take walks each day, either along the beautiful bay or a stroll through the memorial park just next to our hotel.   I take a drive or run errands for at least an hour every day to keep me from going bezerk within these four walls.

I think of how heavenly it will be to sleep in my own bed again after six weeks. I dream of how wonderful it will be to cook a great meal for my family again in my beautiful kitchen-to-be. I drool over images of drinking hot coffee (or several cold cocktails) while sitting on my covered patio, in the privacy of my future backyard. These reminders help me get through the above list of annoyances of my current dwelling.

To make our living arrangement more pleasurable, I talk to the hotel staff and visitors frequently. I make small talk or crack jokes with the housekeeper, the front desk clerk, people on elevators and other guests who are passing through.  I invent silly things to do.  Such as, every day I make a little game out of which parking spot I will obtain when I come back from my latest errand or outing with Vivian.   I play "guess where the dog will go #2 today" when I take him for his "business" walks. I am working on a t-shirt design that says, "I Survived Six Weeks In A Hotel (With A Toddler, Dog and Cat)."

So far, I haven't gone crazy.  Well, not unless you count the incident where I thought I was trapped in the bathroom.

I haven't yet had the urge to grab an axe, go on a rampage and shout, "Here's Johnny!" like Jack Torrence (played by Jack Nicholson) in The Shining.  But I still have three more weeks to go so you never know....