Goodness it's been a long time. A lethal combination of intermittent busyness* and laziness have conspired to totally sap my ability to post anything. Which is no great travesty in itself, beyond my desire to have a somewhat continual log of things so that in a few months I can look back and see that I have indeed gotten somewhere and am not toiling on in isolated obscurity with no record that I even exist. How's that for a raison d'blogging?
OK! So, what's going on now? We are in the pre-summer stretch. Business is good, but it will really kick in after July Fourth and everything will be nuts from then until Labor Day. It's a long run and frankly I'm feeling like I could use a vacation before it all really hits but then again I'd like lots of things that aren't going to happen so I might as well wish for a new house complete with gardener, cook and dogkeeper too.
Last week we had this horrible woman from Florida, which for many reasons is my most unfavorite state in the union, though not because it's America's Wang, I kind of like that part about it. Anyway, this horrible woman from Flaaarida checked in and said "I hope there aren't any spidaaaas, because then I'm outtta heeeya!" in a sort of annoying chuckle. We're in the woods, people. There are critters in the woods. It's not a regular occurrence, but from time to time I spy a spider in the rooms, and although I do shoo them out, I just don't find it to be all that alarming. But I guess I shouldn't assume that feeling is universal, sure. Anyway, we left for a bit, and upon our return, while unloading the car she pulls up and---there's a certain shaky, sweaty look people get when they're about to make a stink about something---let us know that she couldn't stay with us after all, and she'd like her money back. "Why?" I asked. There's no air conditioning in the rooms. "But it's a lovely 68 degress inside and out!" I responded. She has haaaaarible aaaaaalargies. And, also, there are "other reasons." So I forced it. Since you're going to allude to "other reasons," you might as well cough them up, right? Otherwise I'll be inventing them for all eternity. So, it turns out our place is "shabby" and that's why her queen-ness couldn't grace us with her queenly ass on our toilets. Puh-leeeze. If you simply cannot live without air conditioning, then you should have covered that during our half-hour consultation about everything under the sun on the phone. And, although our place does need a coat of paint here and there (we're getting there!!!), it is all in pretty good shape, particularly for a trashy New York-to-Florida-transplant grandmother with nasty lips, and particularly for $67 a night.
In a not unrelated topic, we've decided to add air conditioning units to the motel rooms! It wasn't just the Florida Queen, I'm tired of having to say we don't have it at every turn and losing so much business from the lack of it. Therefore, after much debate, mostly having to do with the ongoing costs of running them, and the liklihood of people abusing it by running it 24/7, which is pretty damn likely, we decided to do it. And, we've decided to have a seperate switch for each unit that we will turn off and on for people if they want to pay an additional $5 per night for air conditioning. It sounds chinsey, but it's the only solution if we don't want to raise our rates, which, despite being reasonable, should probably stay where they are. Riviting, right?
*In an uninteresting sidenote, I'm really fond of how the name "business" is apparently an act of wishful thinking. So that businesses would always be in a state of busyness. And busyness makes moneyness.
The Cap'n has been here for over 6 weeks now, and he's really
catching on, though unfortunately it appears my attempt to designate
him "Laundry Boy" has utterly failed. He now is emotionally invested
in this place, proven by his riledness last weekend when two seperate
parties stopped by to inquire about a room, and balked to the point of
giving the impression that they had been personally offended at our
(swear to god) very reasonable rates. We've gotten a lot accomplished
in a short time, and the place is really looking good, which is kind of
surprising. We've also discovered that he doesn't much like cleaning
rooms, and gets into a bit of a funk when it's time to scrub the loos.
It's an expected identity crisis, when a college-educated professional
scrubs toilets for a living, but it was a surprisingly short one for
me, and I hope that's the case with him as well. Because, seriously,
we've got a lot of toilets to scrub, and I ain't doin them all.
Poopies, who currently is sitting on my lap disassembling my wallet, turned a year and a half a couple of days ago, and despite being practically perfect in every way, is still holding out on the languidge skilz. He has said words here and there (mama, dada, dog, tree, baby, truck, car, flower) but clearly hasn't developed any real interest in communicating. Why should he, when he can just say "Eh?" and we scramble to supply food, milk, hugs and diapers until he stops? We see the pediatrician next week, and I'm so dreading it. I don't want to hear about all the horrible things that could be, but just plain aren't, wrong with him.
Other stuff has happened, but it's apparently not interesting enough to go into (not like the fascination displayed above). So, um, bye.