The Backwash

As a frequent traveler, I see my share of hotel rooms. From the amazing large rooms for a mere $179/night in the middle of the country to the space-challenged $450/night rooms in NYC. Here’s a clue for any of you who may still get excited about the ever-decreasing “amenities” in hotel spaces. If you have a slow-draining shower, housekeeping failed.

I can deal with small spaces. I can even deal with wafer-thin pillows. I cannot abide a slow-draining shower. Why would any hotel chain (I have found this more prominently in the Hilton brands than the Marriott brands. I guess Paris is losing her hair at an alarming rate) actually think that we would want to stand ankle-deep in our own washed-off filth? If I wanted to do that, I would take a bath and steep in my body-dirt.

The reason this miffs me is my theory that if this happens, housekeeping did not clean the tub. Think about it. If they had, they would have to run the water for 30-seconds minimum to rinse whatever cleansing agent they used. If you are the victim of a slow-draining tub, all that means is that housekeeping probably did a quick wipe-down to get stray hairs out – you were not the beneficiary of a real cleaning. If they HAD cleaned it, they would have noticed the slow drain and notified maintenance.

This week, I got the sheer joy of soaking my feet in a communal sitz-bath at the Marriott Courtyard Downtown in Chicago as the result of a slow drain. I was sporting a good 3-4 inches of water down there. I can get a slow drain at a Best Western. I don’t want one at a Marriott!

Picky? High-Maintenance? Maybe. Make the call yourself. I guess I just never realized how much a slow bath drain could be an indication of a person’s poor work ethic.

-MH

Just read it and wrestle with THIS POST from Larry James’ Urban Blog. A little spiritual autopsy, anyone? I won’t taint it with any more commentary.

-MH

It is rare when I take this space to disparage a lame operation – but the pet services / www.smallk9.petfinder.com operation in Paragould is just that.

We have looked for nearly five months to rescue a puppy from a shelter for a family pet.  It’s like we have been getting ready for another baby.  I have had a dog run installed in our back yard.  I’m spending money on this thing and we don’t even have it yet.

Well, this PATHETIC OPERATION advertises dogs in need of homes, and requires an application process.  WE WERE REFUSED!  Why?  Your guess is as good as ours.  In fact, Pat Kellim, the person who refused our application, would not even give us a reason.  My guess?  They are in collusion with other shelters in the northeast (where many Arkansas puppies get shipped to fetch HIGH adoption fees, so we have learned).

Well, TODAY we apparently were found worthy by Little Rock Animal Services (a first-class operation – unlike Ms. Kellim’s shyster puppy mill) and we will get our new puppy on Monday.

I can qualify for mortgages, am targeted by marketers all over the place, can raise two kids, but get turned-down for a puppy adoption.  Here’s to you patkellim@hughes.net (I hope your email gets skimmed by every spammer on the internet by being posted here…I know exactly how many web spiders crawl this page).  I hope your pathetic organization gets run out of business.  In fact, the streets would be a better place for the poor animals in your alleged “care.”

Rant complete.

-MH

My life has come full-circle. Just yesterday, my daughter asked if I would do a blog entry for her. When I asked the topic, she said she wanted me to go-off on “old people who drive sport cars.”

With my “significant” wisdom, I told her that I didn’t need to write a blog entry to give her the reasoning. I gently told her “honey, blue-hairs drive sport cars because they CAN.”

Nearly 40 years it has taken me to understand how that little bit of life works. Just like the seasons of life, we go through the seasons of our automobile purchases. From first car (which can see the diametrically opposed “parents bought it for me” to “I have to pay for all of it”), to first cars purchased when married, to minivans and SUV’s for kids, to the midlife crisis convertible, to the “I don’t care how old I am, I can finally afford the Corvette and I don’t care if you get mad that I don’t drive it over 40 mph” early retirement car, to the end-of-life Buick or Cadillac.

I used to have angst toward these folks, but I have learned now from my own journey through economics that the target market for sports cars is not young fast drivers; it is rather one simple segment…those who can afford them.

So, maybe this is just an acknowledgment of lessons learned from the road. In any event, regardless of the type of car, beware for your safety if your only view of the driver in front of you consists of knuckles on the steering wheel. That has 25 in a 50 written all over it!

-MH