Welcome to Hotel Hell.
Here you will accompany me on a strange (and sometimes creepy/disturbing/gross) journey within the confines of these walls.
Here we find the back entrance, up the stairs and through the door. (And my insane sister.) I love my family.
We reside here, in Room #2. Check out that old time numbering. It’s freaking awesome, right?
Allow me to give you the grand tour…
Oh, and by the way, I measured our room. The room itself is 9 feet by 9 inches wide and 13 feet long. The kitchen area is 9 feet by 9 inches wide and 10 feet long.
This is a picture of our room, standing in the doorway of the mini kitchen. A few things have changed now, but I’ll get into that in the future posts.
This is a picture taken while I sat on one of the beds (and tried not to fall off while Lucky tried to eat my fingers). It looks much bigger in the picture. If you look closely, you can see that the calendar on the right side of the wall and know it was taken sometime in December. Our first month here. We’ve moved the room around a bit by now. And the boxes past the kitchen doorway aren’t there any longer, instead we have a black cabinet left behind by someone else in another room.
It looks like this now.
Here we have a picture of the kitchen sink and off to the right, part of the black cabinet. It meets the wall a few feet from the door.
(Do you see that tiny fridge? I had no clue there was a mini fridge with that level of mini-ness! My definition of ‘mini fridge’ has been re-defined. I am not at all happy about this.)
And yes, it’s being held up by a bucket.
Here is where Lucky goes to remember he’s at least part dog and maybe not 100% my human baby. To the left is the mini oven and to the right is the garbage bag, leaned up against the wall.
So… now you’ve had the tour. Of the main hall and our room, that is. I’m soooo not taking a picture of the bathrooms or shower.
That’d be just creepy.
We have a lot of catching up to get along too now that that’s done and out of the way. We moved in on December 1st of last year.
On the first night, while we moved our belongings (backpacks, boxes, and suitcases) up the stairs, all the way down the hallway to the opposite side of the old time hotel (which is really only about a yard long), and into our room, we had our neighbor knock and ask us if we could quiet down.
“It was past 8pm, after all.” She said grumpily.
… Have I mentioned that I’m a night person? Just try, try, to imagine my horror of hearing that I would have to be quiet after 8 every night because my neighbor was going to sleep. She’s turned out to be really nice and just needs her sleep, but it’s really hard for me to not accidentally trip and yank something out of the wall while I’m still up and doing stuff. Even if all I’m doing is reading a book. I get twice as klutzy as normal when I’m trying to be quiet.
From day one, I was very, very afraid. And that was when I thought we were only going to be staying for 2 weeks.
HA HA! *whimper whimper*
We eventually figured out that we must be uber silent after 8 at night or risk being kicked out. There’s a 3 strike policy. And a 10pm curfew.
By the end of week one, Lucky was not liking this small confine thing.
I have to agree with my fluffy bambi. I like my space.
Mum walks back into the room from the kitchen (aka, she took three steps) and tells me, “The door won’t open.”
I laughed. “Yeah right.” (We had been having an irregularly bad day).
Dylan stalked over (took three steps) and tried to open it. He turned back around to me with wide eyes. “No, Daph, she’s not joking. The door is stuck.”
Holly and I got up and tried to open the door. No such luck. The door was actually stuck. And there was no budging it! With my foot on the wall and my entire body’s weight pulling against the door, it didn’t so much as groan.
It was hilarious!
We tried credit cards, screw drivers, and butter knives. We finally gave up banging on the door and decided to write a note and slide it under the door, saying the door was stuck and we needed help getting out. Any other night people were complaining that we were being too loud! Go figure.
Someone eventually saw the note and told us to back up. He kicked our door down. Which was awesome. If I’d have known the manager would have believed us, I’d have tried kicking it down. Because that would have been fun! (It would not be the first door I have kicked in.)
He had to yank the knob and its lock out of the door so it wouldn’t get stuck in the doorjamb again.
A day later, we got a new door knob and deadbolt. Yay!
By the end of week 2, we knew we weren’t going to be getting any sleep. The people on our left let yelled all night long and the bar is right outside our window. Ha ha. *glare* Not to mention ambulances, cop cars, drunks, etc., that take it upon themselves to drive/walk down our street at random spurts all night and day long. And be as loud as they possibly can.
If the zombie apocalypse hit, we wouldn’t even be able to tell.
If only I would have gotten to kick down the door. Sigh.
Tune in next week for weeks 3 and on at Daphne Shadows’ Hotel Hell! ;)
- Hotel Hell #1 (daphneshadows.wordpress.com)