Ugh. I obviously watch too many horror films. And stay in too many hotels.
After a day of business-trip-related tomfoolery, I come back to my room and silently poke around like an amateur Columbo, thinking “That’s not where I left that…someone’s been in here!”
Of course they have, it was the cleaner.
When I see that a cleaner has “tidied up” my toiletries in the bathroom, I don’t think “How nice”. My mind instead wanders to flashbacks from “Sleeping with the Enemy”, “Psycho” and every cheap slasher flick I’ve ever had the misfortune to see.
My things have been touched.
Combine this latent paranoia with the sleep deprivation that comes from sleeping in a strange bed and I sense serial killers behind every bump in the night and billow of the shower curtain.
Oh yes. The shower curtain. Which, when I’m not actually in the shower, must be drawn back at all times. To remove one more possible hiding place for the infinitely devious madman itching to slice me in two.
I never feel this way at home….
Hotels are full of strange noises at night.
Last night I woke up at least four times due to slamming hotel room doors. None of which were due to mask-wearing murderers (I think), but in my racing mind, each one signified that a killer in a boiler suit was one step closer to impaling me to the bed with an axe, ice-pick or machete.
I really need to cut back on the coffee.
And the horror films…