Okay, not really, but my upper back, neck, head, lower back, hips, and legs are killing me.
Okay not that either. No killing. They’re just burning.
So, nope. No fire either.
But my body is bloody screaming bloody murder at me! With a megaphone.
I think some pygmies found me in the middle of the night and took an ax to me, chopping me up into itty bitty little pieces, then super glued me back together.
Because they got bored.
Whatever the reality – my chiropractor tells me the Chair from Hell I’ve been sitting in for about 2 years now is wreaking havoc with me bones.
This is getting weirder.
Whatever. I got adjusted, felt all light and weightless like I could fly (not really, I’d fall to the ground and SPLAT like an uncoordinated dodo bird). Then I went home and sat in my chair (from Hell – seriously, Satan threw it out his window and a dead guy down the street sold it to me for a pigeon that I didn’t have) and my body instantaneously FLIPPED ME OFF. There may or may not have been brass knuckles included.
One day later, I limped into Wal-Mart like a zombie on downers and grabbed the cheapest comfy desk chair I could find. Chiropractor’s orders.
Maybe I won’t get so many headaches now. That would be FABULOUS. Oh and my back and neck won’t feel like a cement truck ran me over. That would also make me non-homicidal.
And you know, my bones would stay in their proper place. I’m pretty sure that’s good for your health.
But that will happen after my body gets used to sitting with proper posture again.
AGONY! Mini pick axes with a vengeance wielded by shades on PCP (because somehow PCP effects the dead now)!!!
I’m just complaining because my body hates me at the moment. But it’s for its own good. Kind of like how I don’t feed my dog chocolate even though he REALLY wants some. Except I’m not furry, or – you know, a dog.
So I’ll just be over here ON FIRE, while kicking it in my new chair (which is NOT from Hell).
It’s kind of awesome by the way.
Now I just need to find the freaking pygmies.
As a writer, did you have to find the right chair or die from back/neck/head pain?
Or any other kind of person who sits in a chair a lot?
Except this time, it’s a real hotel. The word sanitary comes to mind. It’s a miracle.
Let’s recap. We moved into hotel hell on December 1st, 2012, thinking we’d only be there for 2 weeks, before moving into an apartment. We all know that didn’t happen. And we all lived in a teeny little bitty room together, shared beds, and tried not to kill one another.
9 THINGS I WILL NEVER MISS
NUMBER ONE has to be sharing two bathrooms with an entire run down hotel turned rooms for rent. Now, to sum up the state of the jerry rigged hotel’s restrooms, let me be extremely nice.
Both bathrooms looked like barn stalls for large and messy animals that must be cleaned up every week.
NUMBER TWO would be sharing one shower with the entire hotel. Kind of ironic. The whole point of taking a shower is to get clean, right? Yeah, no. Not anymore. We were advised by the managers to wear flip flops when taking a shower.
And during-shower-gnat-dodging? It’s a thing now. I’ve perfected it.
NUMBER THREE – The pigeons scurrying like rats on top of the bathroom ceiling. At 3 in the morning, this is an interesting thing to experience. Imagine us the first time we closed the door to the teeny bathroom and heard pigeons tap dancing above our heads. We weren’t thinking pigeons, I’ll tell you that much.
NUMBER FOUR – the fridge, oven, and open ladders left in the already extremely thin hallway so that I could trip over them and kill myself. Repeatedly. You know how you get into the isles at the store and then someone else comes down the opposite end, and all you can think is how you need more room because they make these bloody store isles into death traps so they can watch you almost kill one another on the security feed and laugh their toenails off?
Add klutz Daphne.
NUMBER FIVE would be the uneven flooring. I work out. While living in hotel hell, I worked out on a drastically uneven floor only four feet in every direction. Imagine stretching your legs out and being uneven when you go from one leg to the other. One gets uber stretched out, the other almost not at all. Sucks!
Plus, you know, mattresses go on the floor. So if the floor is crooked, so is your bed. Can you say chiropractor and migraines? Your bones. They’re not supposed to be crooked.
NUMBER SIX is the lack of phone jacks. You know what that means, right? No internet. For six months. We’re all lucky I didn’t go on a rampage. I have weapons. They are fun. I finally got a wifi provider, and it moves at the speed of smell, but at least I stopped considering mass murder.
NUMBER SEVEN – the last two months we lived there, the fridge didn’t work. Our food continued to go bad every three days. Fun times.
NUMBER EIGHT. Middle of summer. No air conditioner. Small room. Need I say more?
NUMBER NINE – the mold and asbestos in the walls. Guess how many months I was sick out of the eleven months and one week we lived there? Ten months and two weeks.
Hmmm….. I wonder why. I’m sure it has nothing to do with mold and asbestos in the walls.
THINGS I’LL NEVER FORGET
When our sink fell apart. Almost everything in the hotel was jerry rigged. Our sink was no exception. When it exploded, we found that the pipes were being held up by shoe strings, rubber bands, and one pink ribbon.
Our manager giving me three pairs of free jeans because she knew I only had one pair.
The teeny adorable bats zinging back and forth out of our building’s hole in the wall (no literally, there’s a hole in the side of the building). We’re all into watching them, they’re so adorable, and the owner tells Dylan that bats have rabies. The size of his eyes as he backed away from the window. Priceless.
Not to wear slide on shoes with socks when running up and down stairs as your dog drags you. Yet, I did it every single day and night. So much sense.
Two-tone, the sentinel cat who sat at the end of the hall and watched me as I walked around in the hallway. Creepy.
Opening our door and BAM! Contact high.
Random, suspect stains which appeared overnight in the hallways. I never found the bodies.
Opening the back door on people’s faces. On accident. No really, it was on accident and you’d think I’d remember not to swing it like I was trying to break the wall on the other side. I do believe I’m the only person who did that during the entire time I lived there.
Now that we’ve covered that, let’s get to the move. Did I mention that we drove four hours up to a different county? In our truck. Our stuff out of the hotel. With all of my family…
Think about that for a minute. Me. Mum. 2 mallows. My dog. And all of our stuff out of the hotel.
Right off the bat, I had three things against me.
1 – the truck was covered floor to ceiling with stuff. Holly and Dylan sat next to each other and held the bags and objects falling on them up. I sat with boxes and bags packed in around me, Lucky on my lap, while holding a backpack from falling on Mum as she drove. There was no room for movement. Or breathing. Or existing, in general. Except mum, or you know, we’d all be dead.
2 – I woke up miserable – with itchy, painful eyes that felt like I’d spent hours balling my eyes out. My throat was swollen and painful. I could feel the internal gunk swarming around inside my sinus passages. My nose was running and plugged. I couldn’t breathe and my face was drooling, head pounding – and I fell out of bed.
3 – we didn’t leave until ten at night. It’s a four hour drive.
*drum roll please*
We got to our hotel room at two in the morning. Once I got into bed, I couldn’t sleep. Hmm. Let’s take a look at why. I’d fall asleep, stop breathing, and wake myself up. BECAUSE I COULDN’T BREATHE!
Beautiful end to the first day of our fresh start in a new county.
P.S. My wireless internet carrier moves at the speed of snail on anti-depressants, so if I continue to lack in speedy replies to emails, blogs, and twitter, don’t kill me. I’m busy beating my head against the wall.
P.P.S. I am smiling as I write this. Don’t worry about me. This is supposed to be a crappy time in my life held up in a humorous light. Laugh.
To continue my chronicling of my time spent in Hotel Hell, we’ll finish the last two weeks of December 2012. We’re catching up before getting to the here and now because I hadn’t really decided if I wanted to write about my time spent here while I remained or if I wanted to wait until we had moved. Week 3 decided that for me.
(Okay, so technically, I’m predating week 3, but so be it.) A few days before we were to move into our new apartment (YAY!!!), the manager called and told us we could not move in.
Because we have an eviction on our record and monies owed showing accordingly. This means no one would rent to us.
We didn’t take this news well. We had thought we’d be out of this small room to rent at the end of two weeks. We had even packed accordingly. 2 weeks worth of clothing and needs.
The muscles in my neck got stuck on the left side and I had to go to the chiropractor for an emergency adjustment. I couldn’t move my neck and the pain was constant. Really freaking annoying!
After being adjusted and being able to think, we realized that the mattress we’d been sleeping on was not healthy for us. It felt like a giant had slept on it for half a millennium. Not comfy.
Soooooo, we got my mattress out of storage.
Then we realized that the room itself leans inward. Imagine a large “U” shape. Both sides of the “U” curve in at the bottom so that the floors are leaning into the middle, giving us quite the predicament.
A few weeks later a friend was kind enough to saw off a few wooden beams and situate them between our beds so that we could sleep comfortably. Major improvement!
However, the room still (obviously) leans.
Lucky didn’t seem to notice either way. He was, however getting a little peeved that he couldn’t run around like a banshee.