I picked the seediest of the two or three motels available on the hope and assumption that that if it looked crummy, it would be cheap. I frequently use this approach but I have no way of determining whether or not it is either an accurate or useful method of finding a cheap but comfortable bed. On this particular rainy Monday the outside of the motel looked seedy enough, but it was not that cheap. The inside was just a touch better than adequate. There may have been cheaper motels along this strip but it was dark and I was far too tired to embark upon a comparative shopping expedition.
I quickly got into some dry clothes, hung the damp ones over the chairs, and checked to see what else was wet. I had packed well. The only thing that was even slightly damp was my sleeping bag and that was just one on corner. Good to know that the pack’s cover could do the job. On the other hand it was a pity to have to unpack it all. I had spent so much time (with the assistance of my grandson) packing that pack carefully so that I could find what I needed quickly. Now I would have to do it all over again. Of course this time it would be faster without his help. It would also be less fun.
I was hungry. I went out and looked down the secondary road that runs parallel to the TransCanada. It looked as if there were some restaurants a mile or so away. So I walked towards those lights. They were a collecting of service stations and car dealerships. There were no restaurants. So I walked back to the motel, dug out some Mr. Noodle soup, plugged in the kettle kindly provided by the management of the motel to make a morning coffee and made some soup. For desert I had a chewy bar. Not a great meal but it did warm me up.
I flipped though the TV stations looking for something that could keep my interest. Nothing did so I went to bed early hoping that Tuesday morning would be better than Monday morning. It was.
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