Remember yesterday when I said that setting off on my new journey on Valentine’s Day was so symbolic and empowering?
It still is, but I definitely forgot about the fact that I would be staying at a hotel. On Valentine’s Day.
And something I never could have anticipated: doing this with dogs would make the situation even stranger.
We rolled in late to the hotel last night, and after I got everyone settled in I was absolutely pooped. I was ready for a night filled with the quality sleep I only get from sleeping in a hotel. Yes, I am a weird person who absolutely LOVES sleeping in hotels. I think it’s the thought that I don’t have to clean in the morning that makes me so blissful.
I drifted off to sleep a little after midnight, after completing an Olympian shot-put throw of the herpes blanket safely from my person.
But it was short-lived.
Remember, this is Valentine’s Night. And normal people all around the world were feeling amorous, of course. As they should. If you’ve got it, celebrate it!
But I do not have, so I was not celebrating. What I DID HAVE last night were two dogs who had only spent the night in a hotel once before and have lived on a silent, isolated farm for the last three years and a perpetually cranky cat.
At approximately 1:17 a.m., not that I angrily checked my phone or anything, the sounds of love began. Whatever.
Then they escalated.
Then it got weird.
Because my neighbor, bless her heart and good for her, was thoroughly enjoying herself.
But my dogs, in the world’s most unfortunate misinterpretation of the Twilight Bark, decided to join her.
I wanted to die.
Not only because I was absolutely exhausted, but also because my Catholic upbringing tells me to (1) be ashamed of sex and (2) FOR THE LOVE OF THE VIRGIN MARY DO NOT CALL ATTENTION TO IT.
So picture yourself in my hotel room with me for a minute, bleary-eyed and crazy-haired, attempting to discreetly and quickly shush up my dogs over the sound of lady howls and headboards, both of which combined make up the world’s biggest threat in the mind of a canine. There were stern words. There were jabs in dog butts. There was bargaining.
Then Tuna the Cat, who had already had a rollercoaster of a day that started with me packing away every soft surface he was trying to sleep on, included me accordion-ing him and shoving him into a kennel for 5 hours and ended with him being dumped into a hotel room for the first time in his life, attempted to hide from all of the racket. So he decided to leap into the curtains and freak the hell out.
At first I was pissed — seriously I need ONE MORE REMINDER THAT I’M ALONE ON VALENTINE’S DAY?!?!
Then I gave up — my guard dogs were committed to their task and she couldn’t last forever.
Then I laughed so hard I almost cried. Because every weird thing that happens in your life or mine will always be funny eventually.
The goal is still to conquer Nebraska today. Talk to you next in Colorado (I hope!).