Okay, not really. But things are fine here. The job is manageable, the food is cheap, and the clients are pretty nice. The guy I'm working with is particularly cool -- lots of tattoos, piercings, and pictures of his cute six year old daughter in various vaguely punk-rock poses.

The hotel's not too bad, either, as these things go. The clerk seemed awfully upset at us for callously having forced his coworker to misbook our room, but they were ctually handing out free beer when we came in. That's a pretty good pace to set for yourself. Unfortunately, I eschewed the beer in favor of a trip to the hotel gym. Obviously this was a stupid, stupid mistake. The ancient rusty all-in-one machines in these places never work anything except my rotator cuffs. They, at least, got put through the paces.

The only really noteworthy thing about this place, though, is the smell. Or smells. Okay, sometimes they're predictable -- the wing with the pool stinks overpoweringly of chlorine. And frequently they're variations on a theme -- the hallway smells like old people; the other hallway smells like another, different old person; and the bathroom smells like feet (possibly a pair belonging to an old person). But there are odd wildcards... was someone baking oatmeal cookies in the gym? And did Mr. Kool-Aid drink fruit punch wine coolers in my microwave until he got violently sick? It's all very mysterious. But seeing as I have to be at work by 7:30 tomorrow, I don't have much time to investigate.