Our New Neighbors // Another Hotel Story

Last night was our very last night spent in a hotel room in New Hampshire. After finally getting Opal nursed and tucked in for the night, I couldn’t fall asleep. I tossed and turned and stretched and uncovered and recovered until I finally felt my eyelids grow heavy and then . . . . .

Is that a dog? Someone’s dog is whining.

My eyes popped open to Darrell with his head slightly lifted off the pillow.

“Well the neighbors are sure having a good night,” he says.


“I thought that was a whining dog,” I say.

After a couple of minutes, I break the silence. “No one is THAT loud. Maybe it is the adult entertainment channel.”

“It sounds like a Mexican woman,” he replies.

We continue to lay there in awkward silence with Opal nestled in between us, because speaking just seems inappropriate. It’s not like you could carry on a casual conversation with that going on in the next room anyhow.

As I lay there trying not to laugh at this ridiculous, but typical, situation that we have found ourselves in, my mommy thoughts take over and I begin to mull over what I would tell Opal if she were older and awake and asking what was going on next door. The dog story. I would definitely go with the dog story.

Somewhere around the 2 a.m. hour, I was woken by someone yelling. It was our love birds. Somewhere in the course of the evening things must have turned nasty because they were in the middle of a very heated, very loud argument. I look over at Darrell and he is awake.

He asks, “What are they saying?”

It was definitely one of those moments that you wish you had a glass to see if the hold the glass to the wall thing really works, but lying in the bed and over the hum of the air conditioner, I could only make out a few words here and there.

“I’m not sure, but every other word is the ‘f’ word,” I say.

We listen.

“Sounds like something about it being his money,” Darrell says.

Money. It’s always about money.

We hear a loud bang, indicating someone is dead or a piece of furniture has been broken, but either way, it marks the end of the argument.

Back to sleep.

We didn’t hear from our happy and then not so happy couple again. The “housekeepinghousekeepinghousekeepinghousekeeping” lady (from yesterday’s journal entry) had to kick them out of the room at 11:30 this morning. They were supposed to be out by 11. They were running behind. It was a rough night. I understand.


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