Let me tell you about the strange things happening to me
I wonder if the next guests of Room 716 will have a wash cloth.
There was one when I arrived. It was tightly rolled, resting in the aluminum cradle atop the bathroom counter, waiting for me to wash my face.
Which I did. In the morning.
It joined the bath towel on the floor, used after my shower, accompanied by the smaller hand version used to dry my face after a fresh shave and my washed hands following the most common use of the facilities.
When I returned later that day, the pile was gone, the bed was made, the towels replaced, water bottles and instant coffee replenished. Unsure if the sheets were new. The aluminum cradle atop the bathroom counter was empty.
The next two days I had to rely on my clothless hand to wipe away the sweat and film. It evoked memories of another adventure in Africa, east side. I am beginning to wonder if desiring a wash cloth was only me, that others don’t miss it, or don’t use it, and staffers aren’t in the habit of replacing it.
The door rings while watching the late “football” game; peep through the hole, someone from the hotel wants to turn down the bed, close the blinds, leave behind a pair of fresh slippers. Can I get a facecloth? He gives me two, tightly rolled, fitting perfectly into the aluminum cradle atop the bathroom counter.
Moist and soapy, I spread the cloth over my face, wiping down each side, across the nose, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling cleaner. I decide to leave it hanging in the sink, drying, saving it from an early departure, a one and gone.
When I returned later that day, new water bottles appeared, all was arranged neatly, orderly, with only one face cloth tightly rolled, abandoned, in the aluminum cradle atop the bathroom counter.
Still several more scheduled days, fearing its destined loss, I left it untouched, checking each day, hoping another would arrive, saving it from a familiar fate.
Until the last morning. A shower, a shave, a face wash. Twice.
I left the unfurled cloth to fend for itself, wondering if the now empty aluminum cradle atop the bathroom counter would remain that way for next guest of Room 716.
Strange things are happening to me
Ain’t no doubt about it.