Every now and then, my job takes me too far from home for daily driving. It doesn’t happen often, thankfully, but when it does, I am forced to spend time in a motel. I am currently sitting in one, now, typing out my grievances for any who care to listen.
I’ve been in a number of motels over the years. I remember hearing someone say about hotels and motels that they are all decorated similarly to give you a sense of familiarity and comfort. Well, that may be true, but I think there is a certain necessity behind the design of bed and tv and microwave and table and chair and bathroom. All of that has to fit in a space that practically can’t hold anything else. So, that’s comfort.
At least there’s a mini fridge in here. I buy my supplies when I check in and survive off them until I leave. However, the freezer compartment of the fridge is solidly filled with ice. And the whole thing seems to want to freeze all of my food. But I can always thaw a salad in the microwave.
The microwave oven, incidentally, is small and about as powerful as its easy-bake cousin. But it does manage to heat water warm enough for instant coffee after 5 minutes.

Other motels I’ve stayed in had 4-cup coffee makers. They were accompanied by a little basket containing a single tea-bag type of coffee filter, supposed to be enough for four cups. In fact, my experience is that coffee that comes in a pack like that is just no good. And I’m never quite sure that I want to trust the coffee maker that’s been sitting there since the motel first rented a room. What if some kid ran coke through it? What if some adult ran something worse through it?
Here there is no coffee maker, just the microwave and a few paper cups. Other motels give you porcelain mugs. I was in one such place and they supplied a tiny container of instant coffee and some plastic spoons. Of course, who knows how long the coffee was there. Also, as a test, I used one of the spoons and left it in a used mug. I bit the end of the spoon to make a slight but recognizable mark. I thought, surely they will throw this out.
Sure enough, when I came back after work, the spoon was with the other plastic spoons, rinsed and probably dried with some rag or other. My mark was still on the end. Comforting.

At least there is the comfort of a warm bed for the night. If the room will stay warm, that is. I think the heat gets turned down here from too high to too low over night. So I wake up at 3:30 wondering if the window is open. It’s twenty below here, I’d appreciate not freezing overnight.
Or at least there’s the comfort of a nice hot shower after the long day working. Well, the shower works but the temperature varies from too hot to too cold. One second you’re ok, then a part of you that you don’t want cooked is boiling, then you jump back wondering how it’s possible water colder than ice is spraying all over you. Once the temperature evens out for a while, you find yourself far too paranoid to appreciate it.

But there are no bugs crawling around in this motel. Or I haven’t seen any. Maybe I’m not looking very hard, though.
I must say, it’s better in the winter than in the summer. Here, the ceiling fan in the bathroom sounds like a jet engine, but I can turn it off and it won’t bother me. In the summer, though, the air conditioners are normally much louder than any jet engine and if you turn them off, you suddenly become aware of what it was like for the dead pharaohs once they’d been sealed in their sarcophaguses.
Anyway, I’m glad I don’t have to do it often. I think I’d have to find another line of work.

But there are no bugs crawling around in this motel. Or I haven’t seen any. Maybe I’m not looking very hard, though.
I must say, it’s better in the winter than in the summer. Here, the ceiling fan in the bathroom sounds like a jet engine, but I can turn it off and it won’t bother me. In the summer, though, the air conditioners are normally much louder than any jet engine and if you turn them off, you suddenly become aware of what it was like for the dead pharaohs once they’d been sealed in their sarcophaguses.
Anyway, I’m glad I don’t have to do it often. I think I’d have to find another line of work.