Friday, October 22, 2010

Hello, My Name Is Granny Clampett

Husband and I are on our way to Homecoming at the Boys' university in the far, far South.

We decided to break up the interminable trip by leaving after work and staying halfway and Husband, the Priceline King, found us a wonderful hotel for next to nothing.

The hotel is chic and moderne (final "e" intentional), which is to say it looks as if it came right out of Mad Men. The corner banquette is cozy, the angles are sharp, and the light switches are hidden in ways that make you slap your forehead and say "Of course" when you finally, finally find them.

There is just one decorating choice that puzzles me. The picture you see is the bathroom door. It, too, is chic and moderne, and it slides rather than swings. It is also glass.

The glass is frosted, but my friends, frosted does not mean opaque, it means translucent. (I tried to get Husband to model the specific translucity of the door but he declined.)

Call me old-fashioned, but isn't the whole purpose of the bathroom door to provide some, well, opacity? Also, the door has a lock, which seems rather redundant when you can just glance through and say, "Yup. Occupied."

As I puzzle this out, I leave you with a picture of the cozy corner banquette. Those are, I notice, my shoes up on the far corner.

Granny Clampett, indeed.

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