gross

I was walking down the hotel hallway to go outside and have a cigarette when I noticed my sandals squeaking.

They’re Dansko brand, kind of rubbery flip flops and they had never squeaked before. It was loud enough to make me self-conscious.

When I got back to our room I kicked them off and moved around a bit, suddenly aware that as I picked up a foot there was some.. resistance. My feet were sticking to the carpet in our room just ever so slightly – that super short hotel carpet, a collection of tiny little triangles that was probably once a vibrant brown and tan, now a muted blaaaaaaaaaah brown and tan, with a gray tint to the more traversed areas. 

The floor is sticky. The sandals aren’t squeaking at all, it’s my feet, sticking to stuff. I’ve been writing with this ‘stick’ on my bed! I’ve been sleeping with these feet in my bed! 

Becoming suddenly grossed out I just got out of the shower and put on socks. You can vacuum up crumbs but a build-up of semen is forever I guess. 

In the outside world the area really is kinda pretty, I’m in a town of 8500 but it feels more like a neighborhood cul-de-sac with four hotels perched up on individual spacious plots, with the hospital perched above us all. Everything is green. Rolling green hills surround us all and in the morning there’s a ‘Brigadoon’ level of fog bobbing and weaving throughout the area. It’s warm, not unlike the PNW though, I think the most startling difference is the lack of people. In my mile or so walk yesterday I didn’t see one other person walking and the lack of crosswalks and sidewalks attest to that.

Three more days, as I was just reminded, till I can fly home.