One of the funny things that happened after I spent a few weeks in the same moderately nice, smallish hotel room was that I started to settle into the space. There wasn't enough room when I was entertaining one of my numerous girlfriends and lady companions, of course, or hosting an all night rave, if what you mean by all night is lights out by 10PM, but that's a topic I should write about later, after I come to grips with what is reality and what is not reality. I was moving from a largish house to a much smaller rental place that still has way too much room for two people, and fretting about whether or not we would have enough space. SuperK and I do better if we can put a 100 yards between us from time to time. Although we divested ourselves of fully 50% of the crap that we owned we still brought way too much stuff.
I had a bed and an easy chair and a TV and a bathroom. I didn't find myself terribly upset that I didn't have this or that possession with me. Now obviously a few weeks is not the same as a few years and I was getting tired of the blue jeans - tan Dockers two step, but it was surprising how quickly I got comfortable with a lack of possessions. I do miss the electrical cord that recharges my razor and the Super Bowl XIX ring that Fred Biletnikoff gave me but not much else.
That stuff can really get its claws into you.
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