Life out of a suitcase

This post is about life in a hotel. In a strange city.
These past few months work has kept me in a new city, living out of a hotel.

Now when I was at a more impressionable age I used to think that living in a hotel was good living. Visions of grand lobbies, people waiting on you came to mind.
Well now that I have experienced it first hand, it's nothing to write home about.

The room seems so constraining, no matter what the size and going out is an effort.. you need to dress decently even to go for a walk after dinner, so mostly the walk never happens.

Then the food. The food in any hotel begins to taste the same after a few days, mostly because of the use of a limited number of gravies for most things.

Little things begin to get annoying, like the housekeeping people knocking on the door just when I'm about to drift off to sleep. And then insisting on coming in when not given any response.

And one more thing. The constant stream of "Good morning" in the morning when I go down to eat. It's just unnatural. I don't like to wish people for the time of the day and I sure as well don't like being wished. Or so I like to think. Sometimes I find myself looking at the staff that hasn't wished, trying to elicit some greeting out of them. Urgghh.. I hate when that happens.

Oh yes the loneliness. Mustn't forget that. Having no social circle in the city can get tough. There's no one to talk to at the end of the day and so unwinding from work is that much more difficult. This is also one of the smaller cities and so there aren't exactly too many places to visit.

On the bright side, you can leave the room in a mess but when you get back it's always clean..