However, I do take exception to the fact that my hotel cleaning woman is short sheeting my short bed. It's kicking me when I'm down, adding insult to injury, rubbing salt in a wound, and all those other cliches.
My first night in the hotel, I pulled back the coverlet, slid my legs into bed, and couldn't straighten my knees. I couldn't find the light switch by my bed, and refused to get out of bed to walk across the room to turn on the overhead light because I was cold. I remained calm for about two seconds, then started furiously kicking at whatever was holding back my legs. It gave way. My feet weren't covered, but I was stretched out, so I drifted off to sleep.
The next morning my sheets were snarled around me. I noted that the sheet AND comforter in the other bed were folded in half then tucked snugly under the mattress. Odd. I made my bed and headed out for my day.
Later that day the cleaning woman remade my bed - linens folded in half and tucked under the mattress. I started tugging on them, but she had nail gunned these puppies down. I puuullllllled and fell back against the wall, a corner of the coverlet clutched in my hand. Not really having a temper myself, I serenely grabbed the bottom edge of the mattress and dumped the whole thing over. The sheets came out. I remade the bed.
I found the lady in the hallway. I explained in English and sign language that I do not want her to make my bed. I will do it myself. She agreed. She remade my bed.
We have had this conversation three times now. She continues to short sheet me. Yesterday I put my suitcase and loose bobby pins and papers on top of the bed after I made it. I came back from the hospital, and she had carefully removed everything, stacked it neatly on the ground, and short sheeted my bed.
She put a carmel on my pillow.
I admire her determination. Today I am hiding the sheets.
I believe that you, a future doctor, can outwit this determined cleaning woman. I believe in you!
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