Hotels

The thing about hotels is that you walk a lot. In the corridors, I mean. Between your room and the bar, or the upper floor just to see the views. Or the pool. The first day is impressive, I add up a few kilometers because I want to explore everything. Like candy, arriving at hotels makes me feel a bit like a kid again. It's like a new extremely interesting playground. I feel like sneaking in everywhere. And it's always so clean and quiet. It's begging me to pretend I'm a ninja and go through staff-only doors, unravel the mysteries of the laundry room where I'm not supposed to be in, perform a silent make believe swift stealth execution on a couple of employees that pass nearby... You know, the usual stuff.
I wish I could live in a hotel. Hotel beds are always better then my own bed. I know it's heavily because someone flawlessly makes my bed and changes my sheets at the hotel, and if I'm lucky they'll leave a little crappy chocolate on the pillow. Yep, crappy. But you know chocolate, it's like sex. When it's good, it's great. When it's bad, it's still good.

So, it's now 5 am, I just got off work. I can't possibly type anything good right now.