The Hotel

I'm living in a hotel today, thanks to the termite tenting.  The 3-Ring-Circus will begin again tomorrow when I move out of the hotel and back in to my home.

But last night, the first night of tenting, I drove past my little place.  It's a rented 1928 duplex, one-bedroom.  I'm very happy there.  I've loved it since the day I moved in four years ago.  So when I saw the tent, I was kind of releived that it didn't look so bad . . . until I drove around the back.

Up was the huge sign of the pest control company, up were the signs saying how dangerous it would be to enter.  But most of all, up were the hoses coming out of my house the way hoses come out of humans during surgery.

I can't describe how weird this feels, or how stupid I felt when I cried at the sight of it.

Home is such a sacred place.  Being without one is one of the most stressful things in life.