Tryin' hard to look like Gary Cooper.

I am still grappling with the concept that my company has a corporate rate at the Ritz. I walked into my room last night to find classical music playing softly in the background, robes at my disposal, the plushest towels and pillows I could ever imagine, and regal curtains adorning the windows. My coworker and I hit the bar for a quick drink-and-rant, and I felt supremely out of place in my tye-dye t-shirt and ratty tennis shoes. Yeah, I don't get out much.

Tonight I was a little surprised to find that they didn't put the ironing board away while they were straightening the room. The bath mat (the one with the rubber padding on the bottom) was folded on the bathroom sink, which was kind of odd. The end of the toilet paper roll wasn't folded into a neat little triangle. And I still couldn't figure out how the hell to set the alarm. My opinion started to waver.

But then I got a rose, and the best damn sourdough rolls I've had in years, with my room service and all was forgiven.

Super duper.