As you may not be familiar with the ins and outs of the seemingly pathetic but insurmountable joys of hotel living, let me clue you in for a moment. For the cost of an average hotel room, one has the option of staying in a Residence Apartment which includes a full kitchen and living room. This means the average road warrior can feel like a baller for little more than it would cost to hole up in a smoking room at La Quinta. This is the closest thing I have to an apartment these days, but as I usually feel wasteful inhabiting such a space by my lonesome for merely one or two days, it's treat I don't often experience.
Alas, I am staying three days. Worth it.
Tonight I went grocery shopping for about the third time in six months. I placed items in a full sized refridgerator without moving aside left-over cartons or various percentage of milk containers. I stood back in wonder, forgetting about The Morning Blend, I surveyed my purchases, the freshly washed dishes near the kitchen sink, my miscellanious belongings scattered on the couch in the simulated livingroom. I'm waiting for the voice over from Arrested Development to continue guiding me through the "Model Home." What I'm left with is the ear piercing screaches of Rachael Ray, which, when heard from the corner of a couch, with feet properly stacked on a coffee table that doesn't actually belong to you, upon magazines you don't actually subscribe to, can be mistaken for comforting.
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