A Few Days of Soul-Feeding

My entire being smiles at the thought. Three nights away, in a beautiful town where no one is expecting anything of me. In a room that’s not quite beautiful, but it’s clean, peaceful, in some ways rustic and hospitable, and it’s mine. For a price, sure, but still mine.

The next three nights and two days are mine, to spend as I wish. No one knows where I am. I’ll keep my phone on vibrate. I’ve got a fat novel, two bottles of wine, music, brie, comfy clothes, and my computer upon which to (finally) take some time to give voice to my soul through writing.

So my entire being says “Ahh!”

Looking out my 3rd floor window through the streetlight-illuminated darkness at a very snowy, busy street, I thrill that no one knows me. No one knows whom resides in room 311 tonight, or which car in the small parking lot is mine. The pregnant waitress that served me dinner will likely never see me again, neither will the young curly-haired attendant at the desk downstairs.

An envelope on the well-used desk says my room was prepared by Betty. Betty didn’t notice that one side of the bedskirt was tucked up under the mattress, but she’s forgiven because of the fact that there is a bedskirt, and because all of the furniture is made of real, solid wood. The light in the bathroom isn’t flattering, but it gets overshadowed by the presence of five lamps in the sitting/bedroom.

Tomorrow will bring a good coffee (deserving of an “ahh!” all of its own), accompanied perhaps by some writing and an earful of good tunes. I also hope to peruse the wares of some shops on the quaint main street, in search of a new every-day bag, before its would-be predecessor gives up the ghost. Who knows what treasures I might find or what delectable eateries I’ll stumble across?

Meanwhile, I’ll work at ignoring my tasks and feeding my heart and soul. Just for a few days.

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