See that there picture? It is of the Swissotel. That is where I am right now; on the 28th floor, exercising my rights as a hotel woman by playing on the internet and being glum.
Last night while I was waiting for Garrison to get done working I took a bath in our bathtub, which was not as gigantic as I had imagined; also there was no whirlpool, and the free bath products were not even Bath and Body Works or anything good: they smelled like air. The bath was sort of a sad experience. The lighting in the bathroom is really good, so I could see all of my slackerliness in full view: the darkest, longest leg hairs, the gunk under my toenails, etc. So I shaved off all my body hair. Haha, no I didn't, but I did clog the drain. No, I didn't, but the very white bathroom looked disgusting after I shaved, which had probably not happened in a couple of weeks. The hotel-light made me feel very guilty, but also very accomplished post-shaving. It made me want to go up to the penthouse workout room/pool, which you have to pay for, and lay on the floor naked with Wayne Koestenbaum and talk about red turtlenecks.
Also I didn't know there were Swissotel bathrobes in the closet, and was sad to find them after I was already dressed and sitting in front of our window, which looks out on a bunch of office buildings and a piece of the lake, staring out and thinking about where all of the people below were going. I decided all the people below had money, and that they were going somewhere awesome, like the businesspeople I'd seen sitting at Houlihan's having after-work drinks in a big group. They all looked happy and also beautiful and very tan.
Now it is thunderstorming. This is no fun. But it sort of is fun. I think I'll meditate or something. I think I can only meditate in hotels.