Hotel Rooms

Last night’s bus load of students was American. I heard them chattering in the halls again, though they weren’t nearly as noisy as the Italians and they were all girls. This morning they stumbled in to breakfast bleary eyed and bed-headed – as did I, though not as bleary eyed as yesterday.

Staying in hotels is not all that fun, though it might be different were I in some swanker digs. The place I’m in is fine, really, but my room is quite small and a little too dark for my tastes, and the window just isn’t big enough. No big deal, it’s temporary, and the breakfast they serve, in spite of the mediocre coffee, is rather nice.

I’m quite sure that Sock Monkey, my sneaked in companion, stays in all day watching Animal Planet and making ridiculous requests from the kitchen. That and making long distance calls to Gold Toe or whatever sock factory his predeccessors come from.

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