You know, sometimes I feel like things happen to us that really are too ridiculous to be true. Like maybe we, for whatever bizarre reason, magnetically attract “incidents.”
Ben had to go to Minneapolis for a couple days. He had to be at the airport in Spokane by 5:00 am this morning. Spokane is an hour and a half away. So, rather than me driving him up at 3:30 am, we decided to go up to Spokane last night, stay the night in a hotel near the airport, then I would drop him off at 5:00 and drive home – with plenty of time to get the kids ready and out the door to school. Are you with me on this? I don’t see anything outlandish in this plan. We weren’t really being reckless, or taking crazy risks. We were staying in the Ramada Inn in Spokane for heaven’s sakes, and Papa and Nana were babysitting the kids.
The first sign that things weren’t going to be wholly swell was when I went to turn back the crackly polyester bedspread and found a hair on my pillow. Pretty sick, but I told myself that I was feeling hyper-sensitive because of the noticeably weird smell in the room, that I was probably being ridiculous, and that it was most likely one of my own hairs that had somehow drifted down onto the pillow as I bent over. It was a possibility at any rate. I pushed the thought out of my mind, turned the pillow over, and climbed into bed.
Somewhere in the dark hours of the night, the fitted sheet began creeping off of the mattress. Off of all four corners. Unstoppably. Nothing would keep that thing on there. That’s aggravating enough at the best of times, but on a hotel mattress it’s pretty overwhelmingly bad. The mattress pad was rumpling up beneath us as well and curling into a wad, and am I right in saying that no one ever wants to have to come into contact with a bare hotel mattress under any circumstances whatsoever? You’re all with me on this I’m assuming. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it. Anyway, it was due to the shifty nature of the sheet that we discovered that the mattress was split open and the stuffing was coming out the side. Yep.
We had requested a wake-up call at 4:30 am, but just to be on the safe side we set the alarm also. The alarm went off as planned, but the wake-up call didn’t put in an appearance until 15 minutes later. And you know, for a hotel at the airport, they ought to realize that wake-up calls really shouldn’t be rounded off to the nearest quarter hour. Anyway, we had already hopped up and gotten ready to head out . . . and as we were doing the last run through the room Ben picked up the wet towel off the floor. Guess what he found on the wet towel. Ideas, anyone? Well I’ll tell you. Ants. Whole platoons of ants, swarming all over the towel. They were everywhere in the carpet – and in the course of the night they had managed to get all through (and I do mean all through) our luggage.
The really festive thing, was that as we were checking out, Ben mentioned to the woman at the desk that we had been afflicted with ants in our room. And you know what her response was? She said, and I kid you not, “Hhmm. Well . . . did you have food with you?” We hadn’t, as a matter of fact, and we told her so. But honestly! Can you believe? As if, had we been rash enough to have food in a hotel room, we clearly would have brought the ant plague down upon ourselves through our own reckless behavior! I enjoyed her ability to take the high road on the whole ant issue.
I came home in the wee hours this morning with my bag riddled with swarming ants, and I of course dumped everything into the washer in the hopes of drowning them all. The empty bag is still sitting on the front porch full of them. But then there’s Ben, poor guy. In Minneapolis. With a tight schedule, and all the clothes I so diligently ironed for him . . . all full of ants!