The Room

Gretchen had already arrived. And unpacked, for heaven's sakes.  Everything was neatly tucked away. Her clothes were hung. She had packed light, I could tell. She only used four hangers. I brought so much crap I needed to use the two extra hangers I had used to hang my blazers in the wardrobe section of my suitcase. I'm not sure why I bothered to "hang" them.  Or what the purpose of that wardrobe section is.  The blazers got all crinkled anyway just from being mashed together and folded in funny ways.  At least this trip I've made it a point to wear all three blazers. I think last year I didn't wear half the clothes I took to Atlanta. But, egads, how can a Michigan girl know how to pack for someplace like Atlanta. I mean, they still had flowers blooming down there. In November!  Tender flowers like impatiens. That's got to be illegal.  No self respecting impatiens is alive in November in Michigan.

Anyway, the room is nice except the air conditioning doesn't really chill the room the way a menopausal women needs it to be chilled. Good thing I brought my little fan with me.

The only real problem with the room is that there isn't much counter/desk space. Between Gretchen and me, with all our books, and mirrors, and munchies, and handouts, and chocolate, and my makeup, and computers with assorted cables, we need space. We ain't got space. And Gretchen took the top drawer of the dresser thing, and gave me the drawer that's missing a pull. I got her back, though. I came in late last night after the sock hop, sweaty. I needed a shower. I took it. Gretchen heard.  She did say, though, that she didn't surface enough to even care. 

Check out Gretchen's website