I love hotels. I always have. I find something romantic about them - it's something new and exciting and also comfortable.
I'm laying in a king bed at a hotel in Springfield, IL. I know, you're jealous because I'm on your dream vacation to Springfield. Mine has elderly, hard of hearing, and senile grandparents as a bonus!
Usually I would stay at their house like normal, but my grandmother doesn't own a pillow that doesn't have feathers, and down causes me to stop breathing. Pretty serious allergy. And it's really dusty there.
So here I am in a king bed in a hotel room. Poor little me. Did anyone count the number of pillows on this bed? It is six. Heaven.
Sometimes, I think I want to live in a hotel. I only cook with the microwave as it is, so that's not a problem. I think eventually I might miss my stuff. And the clothes I couldn't fit in a suitcase - I would miss them. And my shoes. And the Internet. I would miss my desktop and the now reliable, installed by my brother, internet.
So maybe I'll just order room service and enjoy my time here. But I'll definitely be looking forward to my next hotel stay!