Greetings friends and countrymice...

Got back from a golf club resort tonight where I spent last night (not my choice - wkshop) and you know what, as much as I hate the things in principle, as much as my skin crawls at the very thought of the pond with concrete animals in it and the vast expanse of ugly green lawn up a mountan dotted with stupid men in ugly shoes, despite myself I fetishize the crisp white sheets of a nice hotel room as much as the next girl. Something so peaceful about that hour stolen away in the middle of the day with just you and your mini shampoos, just clean uncluttered sparse room with light streaming through gauze curtains and the sound of children laughing in a swimming pool a long way away. Something so deliciously centred and calm about sliding legs under tightly made up sheets and relishing the firm mattress that was never and never will be folded up into a sofa. And the unbroken quiet that you have symbolically sectioned off for yourself by the chain across the door. The deep sleep of the undisturbed.