Hotel Livin'

I think the longest that I have ever stayed in a hotel was when I was young on vacation with my parents. It was probably only for a few days, 5 at the most, but it was always so exciting for Katie and me. Anyone who knows my family will not be surprised to learn that my parents never made reservations or called ahead of time. Instead, we would drive and keep our eyes peeled for vacancy signs. When my parents spotted one my dad would pull in and go inside to check it out. He would come out and talk to my mom briefly and then she would poke her head in the backseat and look at us as if she had bad news and then would shout, "Get your suits on!!" the way her father used to do to her and her brothers when they were young. We would scream and leap out of the car to start unpacking and head to the hotel's pool. At that point, we would usually be ushered into some back entrance by my dad who had told the hotel that only 2 guests would be occupying the room in order to get the cheaper rate. Once we got to the room, Katie and I would explore every nook and cranny of it and find genuine delight in grabbing the miniature soap and shampoo or playing with the little coffee maker. We would set our stuff up and put our dolls on "our" bed and then quickly change into our suits. Ah . . those were the days . . when staying a hotel was the coolest thing about vacations and life was carefree and entirely fun. Now I find myself in a hotel for 9 weeks with a roommate that I barely know (but really like, btw) and no doll on the bed for comfort. The mere thought of trying to battle the endless line for the limited laundry facilities made me nauseous so I opted to wash my sweaty yoga clothes and a few other items in our bathtub. Now our room is filled with clothes draped over every corner, hook, door knob and piece of furniture. I feel bad subjecting my roommate to this and also realize that the process of evaporation is quite time consuming so I will not be doing this again. So, part of hotel livin' here at the Radisson LAX will be trekking with my sweaty, smelly yoga clothes to a nearby laundromat. As a spoiled New Yorker the mere thought of this makes me want to jump on the next plane back to JFK. What happened to fluff and fold?!?! (For those that don't know, this is the convenient feature offered in the city in which someone will come to your apartment and pick up your dirty laundry, wash it, fold it, and then deliver it to your door for a fee). Needless to say, I am not looking forward to devoting my valuable time to sitting in a laundromat. And, I'm in L.A. for God's sake! The last thing I want to do is spend what little free time we are allotted doing laundry! But that's hotel livin' for ya . .