Whose been sleeping in my bed?

My orientation for my job began Monday in a facility 99 miles away.

My employer paid for me to stay in an "extended stay" hotel. "Extended stay" is a euphemism for "no maid service."

I don't exactly remember when my problem started with hotels, but when Anna and I were to marry, the hotel lost my family's reservations three times. That started a trend that varied from lost reservations, rooms with plumbing not working, doors kicked in, beds broken and various and sundry other small things.

This hotel first lost my reservations. The clerk was mortified. She kept apologizing and apologizing. I explained to her it was not unusual for this to happen to me. So it took about thirty minutes to check in.

Then I went to my room which was a handicapped accessible room because that was all that was left. I asked if the handicapped parking came with it. Sadly not!

So, after the drama of packing up the house, driving to a new home, I was glad to settle into a room with a semi-comfortable bed. I brought some popcorn and burned a bagful.

I crawled into bed for an uneventful evening of television on a channel I rarely see.

And then it happened!

My foot brushed against something at the foot of the bed. It felt like a dryer sheet, so I fished it out with my foot. It was not a dryer sheet!

What it was--a pair of woman's underwear.

I hurled it to the wall and jumped out of the bed. I was later surprised this old man had such agility and speed.

It occurred to me the lady's panties could have been mixed up in the wash and my bed was clean and freshly made. That did occur to me, but what if the other was true. Eeweeeee!

So, at my extended stay hotel, they made me feel right at home. Before I got to sleep, I changed the sheets on my bed. What an effort at hospitality.