Last day in the hotel

Written last night:

Last day at the hotel! 

Living in anonymity has its good points: No one cares. “Do not disturb” keeps them away. Sleep to noon.  Eat chocolate and sweet potato fries and have two glasses of wine if you want. But soon they get to know you, ask how that leg feels today, how you slept, are you here for a job? They’ll print your insurance form when you ask for help, give you another key, change your departure date, even say they’d let you stay at their own house if only it were closer. The waitress from last time we were here tilts her head, remembers Clark, pats my shoulder. 

After this, I’ll travel lighter: jeans and something black, a dress that can't wrinkle, T-shirts. Exercise clothes take up space. Get the weightless kind. Small suitcase should suffice.  Tiny watercolor kit. Soap.

I spent (spent!) the morning collecting papers for the DMV to transfer Rosa to California legally. Thanks to Patrick for motivation! Never before did I really grasp the difference between title and registration. I mean, I understood, but took it all too lightly. Now my heart will be thumping until I see that paper that says title; it’s in the POD. Should be.  

Patrick needed a ride to get his truck. We had lunch, great sandwiches (Sacramento has so many delicious places to eat.), sitting in the hot sun. I drove. I drove! The streets are revealing themselves to me. 

I love the give and take of mutual family support.  I’ve been on the receiving end lately, so it’s great to be there when someone else needs a key or a ride. Clark and I were on our own a long time. He would love this kinship too, was looking forward to it. I’m enjoying it for him; in a way it’s his gift to me.

After Patrick guided me back to (what is it? I-50?), I decided to follow the GPS to Target for a few essentials. And Target here is the same as in Tallahassee, or Columbus — probably anywhere. That made it easy. 

From there, back to J Street; I feel it’s mine. And, yes, there was the Pet Supermarket I remembered passing the other day. I stopped in for fake grass to put on the corner of the balcony. Do you think Zing will pee there first thing? It could save a wake-up walk in the park every morning. 

When I got back to the hotel I fell immediately asleep and woke up after 6, groggy. I think I was exhausted. Then, energized at the prospect of leaving, I packed so there’s hardly anything left for tomorrow, and drove the few blocks to the condo just to check. Yes, the key works, yes, the place looks promising — all painted and taped — floors covered with protective paper, like a facelift patient before the bandage comes off. Worried to note that in the kitchen and bathrooms the cupboards are still brown. They’re supposed to be white. Perhaps that’s left for tomorrow. Either that, or it’s a last-minute glitch that must and can be fixed. I’m learning, take it easy. Tomorrow I’m sleeping somewhere else, either the condo or Patrick and Stephanie’s couch. We’ll see.