To Each His
Own by Debra H. Goldstein
Last night, I
nodded off while reading in the bathtub. The fact that I enjoy reading in the
bathtub will be left for comment in another blog, but the important thing is
that when I woke a few minutes later and looked to my right, the first thing
that went through my mind was “My, this hotel has a picture hanging over the
toilet like the one in my house.”
It took me a
few minutes to register I was in my own home. The first clue should have been
that I don’t take baths in hotels. The second was that no one else probably has
this picture of lavender and turquoise impressionist flowers. I bought the
water color at a charity auction and was assured, at the time, it was a one of
a kind.
When I
brought the picture home, my husband and children took one look and agreed it
was one of a kind. I explained how it was painted by a member of the chapter
hosting the event and all of them simply nodded. If I had been a puppy, they
probably would have individually patted me on the head.
I love the
picture. The colors resonate with me. It makes me feel peaceful. It doesn’t
matter to me that no one else sees my wall hanging the way I do.
Writing is
like my picture. I may love words I string together or ones I read written by
other authors. The next person may hate them. That’s the beauty of the written
word. I think about how people reacted to Catch-22,
Catcher in the Rye, and even Huckleberry Finn. There were diverse
opinions, but today we consider each to be classic. I don’t like all three
equally. Do you?
And, by the
way, have you ever traveled so much that for a moment you forgot where you are?
yes, I wake in the middle of the night wondering where the bathroom is.
ReplyDeleteLOL - I'm impressed that you can read in the tub. Alas, I've not figured out a way to keep my reading glasses from fogging!
ReplyDeleteYears ago I worked for an accounting firm doing hotel market studies and I ran the business side of a friend's gold import company based in the Sint Maarten. I spent more nights in hotel rooms than I did in my home. I've had the same effect. Gee, this hotel has the same dresser I have...
Finding the bathroom and the side of the bed to get off of .. do = confusion. :)
ReplyDeleteFunny blog, Debra. And yes, I have forgotten where I am. I've been going back and forth to my mother's house and wake up not sure which house I'm in. And sometimes a piece of art speaks to you and nobody else.
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure I've experienced this in real life, but I've been there in my dreams. Hope you are getting some restful down time before returning to the road!
ReplyDeleteJust reading online about the heartbreaking fire at Notre Dame. It reminds me of the tiny 5th floor room in a tiny Paris hotel where we stayed once. Of course, the building itself predated interior plumbing. The bedroom was small but adequate, and on one side of the room was the bathroom. But it had only a shower and a sink. No bathtub was fine, but no toilet? We surveyed the room, considered going down to the desk and asking for another room, but it was late and getting dark. The room was not well-lit. My daughter was right across the hall, and she had a comparatively spacious bathroom, complete with a toilet which we could use.
ReplyDeleteEarly the next morning, as the sun shone in, I noticed a small door recessed behind the fireplace. When the door to the room was open, that small door was entirely invisible. It was the door to a literal water closet.
When I was a consultant, I did a lot of traveling and often stayed in the same motel chain. Sometimes I had to check my calendar to remember what day it was and where I was. No longer, even when I am on six-week-long trips, I’m always aware of where I am.
ReplyDelete