A Bed of Straw, A Couch, Anything!

This story has been modified from its original version.  It has been formatted to fit your screen.  

To the crowd of cheering supporters that keep me going from day to day,

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.

Inside the hotel, it was black with the exception of the glowing EXIT lights in the doorways, and there was a steady, incessant beeping of some kind of alarm.  It reminded me of the great Chicago storm!  Three women were excitedly lighting candles in the lobby, one holding a flashlight in her armpit which waved a crazy beam of light with her every jerky movement.

"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! 

"We'll just sleep in our car then," I said, "in the parking lot."

"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! 

I took a leap of faith and understood this to be a yes.  Seafoam and I threw our purses down and flopped onto the couch.  It was loud, with people coming and going, checking in in the dark, and a group of smokers outside sent carcinogenic air wafting in through the doorway.  The night wore on and Seafoam fell into a fitful sleep.  I was  exhausted, my every bone shaking with weariness, but my senses would not let me rest.

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

Another woman walked in.  "Are those the girls from Seattle?"  I heard footsteps approaching and a blinding light was thrust in my face.  "Are you the girls from Seattle?" she demanded.

"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!

Mrs H
twitter.com/_mrs_h

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?