ME, NOW
I am in a hotel room in Atlanta, Georgia. The room is pale yellow and white and the walls intersect with the ceiling at right angles. I am sure the acoustics are terrible, although there is picture molding, which might mitigate that.
I do not know why there is picture molding, because the only picture in the room is hung directly on the wall with a nail. I hate this picture. It is a mass-produced garden scene in the Impressionist style. I have always thought that the Impressionists were overrated and this is not helping their case.
There is a strange lump at the threshold to the bathroom: a tiny ramp to the elevated tile floor. Perhaps something is buried beneath the bathroom: small children? Dinosaurs? One cannot say.
The room is bland and inoffensive to the point of being offensive. Perhaps something more interesting would be here if William Tecumseh Sherman had not burned it to the ground. Or maybe this was the site of a sad candle shop that deserved to be destroyed. Again: one cannot say.
In other news, I had a wonderful time with my bio-mom, Callie, over the past two days. I had never visited Columbus before and plan do so again soon. More on that later.
I should also develop a less sci-fi term than “bio mom” to distinguish Callie from my adoptive mother. I’ll work on that.
sturtle [dot] com 