Home Sweet Home

For years now I have discovered one thing about myself - I am a creature of comforts who is a tad OCD.

Does my confession sound tacky to you? But that’s the truth. The ugly truth.

While I love travelling, and I love staying in hotels, I have also made another discovery about myself – I absolutely hate long hotel stays, even in nicely-appointed rooms in grand hotels. I hate ‘living out of the suitcase’, a phrase that denotes the sad state of my homelessness, the impermanence of the current living arrangements. Where am I? Am I here, or am I there? Oh, I am definitely there – wherever there may be.

You might then question my earlier statement that I am a ‘creature of comforts’. You see, the definition is slightly confusing for my reality. What I meant by that is contradictory between my love for staying in hotels, and my need to be at home – tidy or otherwise.

In hotels, my things are mostly scattered around the room. My cosmetics mostly occupy the writing desk, because I don’t like to put my powders and lipsticks in the same room where I…ehem…shower and brush my teeth. To bring some order into the madness, my lip liners, eye liners, gloss tubes of various colours, mascara wands and brushes will be placed in the hotel glass tumblers - all holding court on the writing desk for easy access. That means, I can never use that writing desk to work at. So, where do I put my laptop? Or books? The laptop will end up on the sofa (so I can’t sit on the sofa anymore), and the books will end up on the bedside table, perching precariously among the hotel phone, the master console for the electrical gadgets in the room, the room service menu, and the writing pad and the pen. Very cluttered indeed!

Then, there is the question of the clothes. The closet space in hotel rooms is mostly miniscule – your clothes will have to fight for breathing room with the hotel safe, the ironing board and the iron – all of which are also crammed in the ‘closet’. My delicates will have to remain in the suitcase which I can lock when I leave the room because I don’t want to leave them lying around where the hotel staff could have a look when they come in to clean the room. The thought of strangers going through my smalls is downright unthinkable.  If I’m travelling alone, closet space is not a big problem. But if I’m travelling with other people, then it is a BIG problem. I normally just relent and give up the closet to the other person, and so my clothes remain in my suitcase for days on end. And then the phrase ‘living out of a suitcase’ is true, and very much compounds the cluttered state of both my physical condition and my mind. There is also the problem of where to put your dirty laundry – no pun intended. I normally just shove them into a laundry bag. But what if I want to wear my jeans again? I can tell you that those will be hanging at the back of the chair for a few days too, compounding the messiness of the room that I have checked into.

My shoes. OK, you got me! Yes, I do bring with me many pairs of shoes when I travel – well, one has to be prepared for eventualities, hasn’t one? Minimum two pairs of sexy sandals – one in a neutral colour like black, one in a fun colour for casual. A pair of sneakers, because I might just feel like going to the gym during my stay. A pair of pool sandals, because I might just feel like chilling by the pool (and ogle hunks). One pair of walking sandals for walking around town. So, that’s 5 pairs, at the very least. By the time I check into the nice and tidy hotel room that will be my ‘home’, I will have lined my shoes against the wall…and already the room looks cluttered. The only consolation is that my shoes, they are pretty shoes. Hahaha

Then, the food. Hotel food is fine – for all of two days. Then, the breakfast spread looks the same (they ARE the same!), and then I’d be longing to eat my own home-cooked meals – either burnt, or lacking a certain je ne sais quoi, I don’t care – as long as they are food which I have cooked myself.

The point is…I love being in my own space, surrounded by familiar things. I love that my earrings that I took off one evening last week are still there on the coffee table - gathering dust, no doubt - but they are there, all the same, until I put them away. I love that I make my own bed. My bed-making method might not be hotel-perfect, but I love doing it. I love that my dirty clothes are in the laundry basket, ready to be laundered only when it is spilling over. I love that my laptop is on my study table in the study, my books piled up on the book shelves, and my cosmetics are on my dresser, where every single lipstick and gloss should be.

I am always happy to leave the hotel and go home - to return to both the homely tidiness and messiness that are me. Until such times when I’ve had enough of home, and need to get away from everything and anything familiar. Then I’d pack my bag for another hotel stay. Oooooh how exciting! And yes, it will be exciting for all of two days, max.