Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Motel X, Cabin Y

We all know about the importance of a room of one's own.

Well, I have that- and don't get me wrong- I THANK MY LUCKY STARS FOR IT EVERY DAY- but it does little to infiltrate the boundary-less qualities of motherhood, wifehood, workhood, etc., all of which have little regard for the sturdiest of blueprints or shut doors. And since I've always been a big fan of moving (that is until I stopped completely) I do what I can to create an altogether geographically removed location of my own.

This can be hard when my time is pressed and my budget is zero, but not, thank God, impossible. This past Hannukah I received a $50 Visa card and within minutes to the day, I used it to book a motel room on West Broad. It was less than two miles from my house, so I had to plan everything I wished to accomplish with my 3 pm to 11 am getaway in the less than 6 minute drive. A whole lot of too much- is what I wanted- but I was delighted to give it a try.

I have stayed in some nice hotels in my day, quite by accident, but this one topped them all. The less than glamorous online reviews only made it all the more appealing. "Seedy" someone said. "More a place for lover's trysts than business meetings." Oh boy! Never had I been able to wake up with such an excellent view of the Auto Zone, not to mention the Waffle House where I worked my first job at 16- hired by Bubba Hicks(I sh*t you not); slinging coffee with Doris who smoked through her traech.

Also, I'd invited a girlfriend with similar hopes of accomplishing everything and nothing to join me. I figured she'd keep me on track and off, equally desirable aspirations. We met, on the dot of check-in, laptops and plentiful snacks in tow, giddy with our alone togetherness.

Amazingly, we got work done. We banged around ideas and started stories. We edited. We brainstormed. We ate and we slept. We made repeat trips to the lobby for refills of watery coffee, but that counted as exercise. And even the bad coffee was good: the high water content enabled us to drink three or four times as much. It was luxurious. It was exotic. It was productive. Of course check-out came way too soon. Luckily, I had the long, stop-light ridden two mile drive home to reflect on the thrill of my recent uninterrupted accomplishment.

And also, to begin to dream about my next getaway. No more Visa giftcards have fallen in my lap, but a small miracle has. I have been asked to Cabin Sit for a new friend while she is away for several days on business. Several Days. Several long, empty, rural, (good) coffee-filled days. I might miss the light/noise/air pollution of suburban shopping Hell, but I think I'll manage.

Cabin Y, ready or not, here I come.

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