It’s inevitable. You always end up leaving something in the hotel room. Usually it’s something of no real value, but sometimes it’s something vitally important, maybe even something you love. And all you can do is hope they keep it safe and happy until you eventually get it back.
There’s a little ice storm this morning, which means, as usual, that I have to hear lots of highway workers and state troopers with heavy southern accents saying “treacherous” and”solid sheet of ice” over and over again on TV. A little variation in terminology would be nice once in a while.
I was going down to that basement to put some laundry into the dryer. I slipped. I slid. I landed on my back. I made horrible noises that scared Mark a lot. My teeth chattered and I started shivering. Mark mentioned internal bleeding and I remembered the blood thinners and how I’m supposed to be paranoid about impacts like these. So we went to the emergency room. It was probably an overreaction, but at least they gave me pain pills.
Funny, it all started because I was washing some dressier than usual duds for work today since one of the search committees I’m on had an on-campus interview scheduled. And as it turned out, I didn’t go to work at all, although I did show up for part of the interview–in virtual form. Serves me right for thinking about wearing a dress shirt to work, dammit.