MOTEL LIVING

Umm yesss.
This is a nice motel, actually. Lots of lawn and green space to walk Cooper, who this morning at 5:30 decided to make a full tour, peeing on every leaf and plant and pipe and stick that was upright in about an acre. I am finding that not every dog owner is picking up, which REALLY annoys me.

This motel-- maybe all of them, I don't know-- has "family suites" consisting of 2 rooms which is what we have. I sleep on a pull out couch which is increasingly uncomfortable BY CHOICE-- I do not think John could stand it. Cooper slept with me last night and we cuddled all night, my face buried in his backside... we are on the ground floor just yards from the exit, so that's nice.

Everyone has been nice. There are==or were-- three other dogs here: a cocker, a Viszla and a doxie, the last two belonging to the same person. The Doxie tried to eat Cooper as we passed in the hall and Cooper laid his ears back and curled a lip but otherwise ignored him. "You're a snack but you are too thin and boney to be practical." The Viszla, belonging to the the same people, danced and leaped and cowered and her eyes kind of bulged. It is a breed I like a lot but they are either great or terrible as far as temperament goes and I leave it to you to make a decision on this one.Of course meeting in a narrow hallway in a strange motel is not an ideal place to make an accurate assessment--or perhaps it is.

These are our two rooms. Looking from John's into mine. His room is always organized and I am always digging in drawers and piles of clothing looking for keys and phones...

                             Cooper on John's bed. The soft bed.
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THE HOUSE

The house where we lived up until whenever we began living here is slowly being gutted.

This is what John's bedroom looked like when they began, It had ugly panelling in there which we said we would tear out when we moved in in 1985. Well-- we got our wish...

                        Looks better, I guess, if you like bare bones.

                                    
                                  What's left of my room.

They have hung a clear plastic tarp between the dining room-kitchen (neither of which were damaged and therefore have stuff packing in them) with a huge blue zipper, so we can get in there to get stuff out, assuming we can find it. John has a habit of not marking the boxes. Of course, my labels, "Junk from my room" are not a whole lot better.

                                         The zippered rooms So now we are looking forward to moving into the rental, which is scheduled for late next week. I can hardly wait. The Landlord knows we have dogs and is even fixing a gate for us. It has LOTS of room and a huge yard with shade. It will give the Bassets lots of outside time investigating, and Cooper room inside to get away from the short-legs.
I would think by the end of next week the house we really live in will be empty and they can start tearing out the upstairs, too. Once everything is torn out they can dry the wood, and then, start rebuilding.

Who would have thought getting a new roof could lead to this? Amazing.