Hotel...Again

Hotels have always been a place of magic for me. They have always been somewhere I have found myself in the midst of a happy vacation...generally in the proximity of an ocean. These places are amazing, you wake up, head out the door, and when you come home your bed is made and there are yummy smelling soaps and freshly laundered, bright white towels in the bathroom. Hotels are fun...usually, almost always.

Now plant your feet back on the ground, here we are, Guymon, Oklahoma. Housing has been such a fun adventure while we have been here...and if you can't sense my sarcasm I promise this phrase is dripping with it. I first arrived here fully aware that I would be living in hotel for a little while as we waited for our unit to become available at an apartment complex. We pulled up with our bug speckled Jeep and Uhaul trailer loaded to the brim with as many possessions as I could cram in every ounce of space. We were exhausted after fourteen hours of driving with two kids already adept at pestering each other, eight potty breaks in bathrooms that shoes must be worn in, at all times-no exceptions, twelve Disney movies, and fifty "Are we there yets?" (fifty every hour that is). We were wasted. As we pulled into the motel, yes I said motel this time, with an "m". My memory of happy hotels altered. I couldn't remember happy hotels having peeling paint. I couldn't remember happy hotels having royal blue doors. I couldn't remember happy hotels having spider webs and litter fluttering about. I couldn't remember even one happy hotel requiring me to rush to the grocery store and buying a bucket full of cleaning supplies before I would even use the bathroom. As we pulled into the motel Brayten took one look at my face and got on his phone to try and find us somewhere else to live.

Well we stayed in yucky motel #1 for two nights. I now have a few new rules to guarantee personal satisfaction and happiness. First, never spend the night in a place where the room doors are painted blue (that is a bad sign, I promise). Second, if latex gloves are required to open the room door just back away, slowly and go somewhere else. Third, hotels, yep that's a "h" my friends are highly preferrable over those other places that unfortunately start with a "m".

So Brayten was able to get a hold of one of our friends who had rented a home here. He let us live there until he and his family arrived. We moved in, cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned and then fought spiders for two weeks. Now, as much as I was happy to see their arrival because I really do like them, at the same moment I thought, "Crap." However, we had talked to the apartment complex we were planning on moving into and they said, "Good news, the guy that had been "fixin" to move out of that there apartment moved out early. You can move in Thursdie." (Please note that I generally am proficient at spelling but in an effort to relay our sad tale phonetic spelling is required on occassion. I apologize.)

It was Monday. We moved out of our friend's home, moved into a Super 8 Hotel, and looked forward to "Thursdie". We called the apartment complex Wednesday, the day before blessed "Thursdie," it had now been one week since the last tenants moved out, just to make sure things were on schedule for our move in the next day. "Actually, we still need to get our cleaning lady over there and I haven't even got them out of our system yet so it will probly be next week," she said.

"WHAT?!?" I screamed, in my head of course, because generally I refrain from ranting and raving in public. "WHAT?!?" I puffed, as only a mother can puff, who has been cooped up with two small children in too small of a space for too long a time.

So now came "Thursdie" I drove over to the apartment complex, introduced myself (yes I am the wife of the man who has been hounding you for the past month), and introduced the kiddos. I also happened to mention that my children turn into devils when they are confined to a space that is too small. Well she assured me she would work on it. Then Brayten called again. Then I visited again. and HEAVEN BE THANKED good news. She said I could decide to move in without them cleaning, they would just have to clean the carpets. Well I figured I had already cleaned a motel room and a house I for sure could do more cleaning because by golly I hadn't cleaned enough! She said, "I will have them clean the carpets tomorrow and you can move in tomorrow afternoon or even Saturday. I will come in on my day off and get you in."

HALLELUJAH!!!

Friday came, the carpets were cleaned, the move in was ready but, oh wait, a phone call came from happy apartment manager, "The last tenant signed his lease through next Thursday, June 9th and we are going to honor that."

"WHAT?!?!?" At about this point I'm ashamed to say that a few expletives were voiced...in my head of course. Our unit is vacant and clean and here we are Sunday, day seven of eleven in "happy" hotel.

Guymon has a shortage of housing. There really is nothing available. We have been on the list to get into this apartment complex for three months. We have made a million phone calls in an effort to find a home to rent-a million phone calls, literally, well maybe that is a slight exaggeration but only a slight one. UGH! I'm having to dig deep in my personal pockets of patience to attempt to survive this torture. I can tell you I would be ecstatic to not stay at a "happy" hotel for at least two years, maybe even three. But, deep breath, four more days. Say it with me, four more days. So wish us luck!

Oh yeah and in addition to moving in four days I will also need to #1-Do my regular Primary planning-opening exercises, lesson, music time, and sharing time. #2-Practice to play the piano in sacrament meeting. #3-Go visiting teaching. #4-Survive my children. And finally-survive my husband too. I better start singing Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive" now, maybe it will act as a self fulfilling prophecy. I'm sure it will.

Until next time, I love you all, and I promise I won't whine so much next week (that is if I survive).