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Nobody said it would be easy to hustle around the country chasing an elusive husband.
Of course, I never signed up for easy, so that didn't really matter to me. So it was just another day in the books when Seafoam and I drove from the barracks to the hotel, without any clue what we would find inside. We changed quickly into more comfortable clothes in the pitch-blackness of the car, and grabbed a towel and a quilt and our purses.
|I could use a decadent candy apple right about now.|
"Hello," I said as we entered into the weak rim of light, "I know you can't give us rooms for tonight, but ..." I really, really stretched the truth. "We drove down from Seattle," a technical lie is still a lie, "and we need a place to stay tonight. We have nowhere to go. I was wondering if we could just sleep on the couches here?"
The women had thick Filipino accents. "We can't let you stay here," said the one who seemed to be in charge. The other women clucked like hens in the background.
|Please don't turn us away!|
"That's not safe either," she sighed, as the brood ruffled and shook their feathers. "I can't let you stay on the couches, I can't let you sleep here, but I can't say no."
"So we can stay here? Can we just sit on the couch all night?"
"I can't tell you no, I can't allow you because we will not be liable. But I can't tell you what to do."
|All those stays in the hotel amounted to a lot of hotel soap. I made sure to|
save it all for our place so that I can provide guests with their own personal
bottles when they come to visit!
Over at the desk, the conversation turned to the occupants of the couch - us.
"Did you let those girls sleep there?" I heard a new woman ask. "The girls from Seattle?"
"Well, I didn't let them, but they're there."
"We can't let people sleep there, it's not allowed."
"You tell them to leave, then. I'm not going to make them leave."
The woman sounded sympathetic as the hens cooed. "They're so young; what if they were our girls? Just two kids."
|Seafoam will sleep on the floor if that's what it takes|
"Yep," I said.
She left. "We can't let them stay," I heard her mutter. "Look, her feet are on the couch!" Seafoam had taken off her sandals and curled her legs onto the couch.
I had unfolded my towel for a blanket but now I was prepped to be kicked out of the lobby. I folded the towel up and set it under my purse, half sitting, half leaning against the arm of the couch. Ready to run, if necessary.
But they never kicked us off the couch, and the power eventually came back on. We got a room for the night and in the morning, stiff and sore and barely rested, we told our harrowing story to the husbands who were barely impressed with our traumatic tale.
Life goes on in Southern California. Now to find a place to stay for the time being, a place closer to base and less expensive than a hotel! Mr H and I located an apartment that would let us out of our lease if the Navy so ordered us to move (as they are wont to do), and unloaded the few belongings in my car into it.
Homesteading in the city - it can be done!
P.S. I am still debating if I should tell you the whole story ... I edited this down pretty short ... But I don't want to shock my readers into having a heart attack! What say you, should I spill the overcooked beans?