Thursday, January 19, 2017

January 19, 2017

Dear Diary,

Today was just a mess!  We have to go to Washington D.C. tomorrow and, as you might imagine, it is very distressing.  For one thing, I told Bill to make all the travel arrangements, but as usual, he left everything to the last minute and now, instead of staying at the Ritz-Carlton near the Capitol, we have three rooms booked at the Motel 6 on Route 395 just outside of Annandale.

I was so furious when I heard that.  Can you imagine? Annandale? You know who stays in Annandale?  Cheap hookers and Bubba types who cat around with Secret Service protection, that's who. Ugh!!!  He said he had coupons and that they were expiring in three months, so we had to use them now.

Mind you, I don't have a grudge against Motel 6. It's not like they're rat-infested clap traps, although one time Huma and I saw a cockroach that was almost as big as a moving van! The people who run those places are nice and leave you alone, for the most part.  Still, I was pretty upset because the pink pills can leave me a little woozey, which can make walking to the limousine a little challenging.  I've asked Dr. Morell if he could prescribe something less powerful, but he just shrugged and said the only other alternative was a sledgehammer to the forehead.  I think he was joking.

Bessie did my packing for me.  She's such a dear when she wants to be. I told her to pack light, which she knows means the extra case of D batteries isn't necessary.  Then Bill said I couldn't take the second suitcase, which has all my formal pantsuits, because it wouldn't fit in the station wagon.  I was livid.  Why can't he just strap everything to the roof?  For years, we wrapped lots of bodies corpses victims boxes and luggage to the roof and they were fine.  A little plastic tarp, duct tape and a half dozen bungee cords were all we used.  I'm sure they're somewhere in the garage.

But you know Bill.  He wouldn't hear of it.  He always has to have the last word.  Everything has to be his way.  He puts his cigar where he wants to put it, if you get my drift, no matter how it affects me or my feelings.

Dr. Morell says I've got the wrong attitude and that I should be optimistic because I'm finally getting out of my pajamas and out on the road.  It's an important first step, he says.  Maybe he's right.  I should look ahead, not backward.

I wonder if the Motel 6 pool is heated?

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