My Lyme’s been all up in my business this week, which is why I haven’t kept in better touch. I hate what Lyme does to me. I think of funny stories to tell you all day, but when I get a minute to sit down at the computer, I can’t find the words, or the heart, that this writing job requires. I know that some of you enjoy stopping by the blog to find out what I’ve been up to, but I also know that others need me, depend on me to show up here and keep writing. That is such an honor. I just want you to know that when I don’t show up, it’s not because I have something more important to do. There’s not much that’s more important to me than writing to you. It’s just that I can’t sometimes. Lyme puts me in survival mode.
The good news is that when I’m Lymie, I get even more generally confused. This makes for some good stories.
Last weekend was Craig’s birthday. I surprised him with a night in a hotel, because nothing says birthday romance like wearing flannel pants and watching prison shows in a DIFFERENT bed.
When we checked in, the young man behind the desk said:
One king sized bed or two doubles?
Since it was Craig’s birthday and all, I replied, “King, please.” I thought this was quite sexy of me.
Then the young man behind the desk looked me right in the eye and said:
How many kids do you want?
I paused for a moment, shocked, and then look at Craig. He stared back, completely unperturbed.
I thought: Ooooookaaaay. Weeeeeiiiird. I haven’t been to a hotel for a really long time, so I considered that perhaps this front desk small talk was a new way of making the hotel experience more personable.
I said, “Wellllll…..we already have three at home…and I’m sure we’ll have one more. Craig would like four, but I can definitely see having five. Five would be my limit, I think. I guess we’re not totally sure.” I smiled.
The desk man seemed completely unsatisfied with this answer. He stared at me. I stared back and waited. After a very long awkward silence, he said:
Well. Could you make up your mind please? Would you like four or five?
I looked at Craig again, who was clearly trying not to laugh. He actually looked as if he might explode. I was NOT trying not to laugh. I was trying not to yell.
“Listen. I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what’s going on. I’m not ready to decide right now how many I want. Does my uncertainty mean I can’t stay at your hotel?” I pointed toward the bar. “Maybe my husband and I could go in there and talk it over for awhile and then give you a better idea.”
The man looked at me like he might be ready to call the police. Craig started shaking, unable to control his laughter any longer. I continued to be baffled.
The desk man took a deep dramatic breath and said:
Okay. I’m just going to give you four. Then he looked down at his little computer.
WHAT THE HELL . . . I thought. WHAT THE HELL???
And then the annoyed desk man handed me four keys.
I looked at Craig. He walked away in hysterics. Neither the desk man, nor I, nor the twelve other people waiting in line who had heard the entire interaction were laughing. They were all staring at each other in silence.
I didn’t figure out what the hell had just happened until I got to the elevator. With my four keys.
Craig broke the elevator silence by daring to say:
“Context clues, honey. You’re not really big on noticing context clues, are you? We were checking into a hotel.”
I glared at him. I said:
“If I weren’t too embarrassed to, I would march down there right now and ask for the room with two double beds.”
Craig said, “I know you would, and it’s okay. That was the best birthday present I’ve ever had. BEST present ever.”
Me: “Wonderful. You do realize it’s the only one you’ll be receiving, right?”
Craig: “Yep, I know.”
Me: “Lovely. Let us never speak of it again.”
Craig (still grinning): “Okey Doke.”
Me: “Flannel pants time, then?”
Craig: “Yep. I’ll make the popcorn.”
*If you need another laugh: please reread the hotel conversation from the desk man’s perspective. I can’t yet, too embarrassing.
Author of the New York Times Bestselling Memoir CARRY ON, WARRIOR
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