Things I Do Because I'm a Moron XI
So I'm in a nice hotel, lying on a nice bed with nice white sheets. I had stopped at the nice little shop downstairs and picked up a nice bag of trail mix, complete with nice little bits of chocolate. I proceeded to eat said trail mix on the nice bed with the nice white sheets.
Now, it should be noted that the Colonel is a notoriously messy eater. You can always spot where I have been seated at any banquet by the ring of food around my place setting once the dishes have been cleared away. Admittedly, I was rather careless while scooping the tasty mix out of the tiny bag opening.
Sometime during the fourth quarter of Monday Night Football I fell asleep. I awoke the following morning to the awful discovery that I had not only spilled several of the delectable little bits of chocolate, but had slept on them as well, effectively melting them to the nice white sheet.
Now, it should be noted that the Colonel is a notoriously messy eater. You can always spot where I have been seated at any banquet by the ring of food around my place setting once the dishes have been cleared away. Admittedly, I was rather careless while scooping the tasty mix out of the tiny bag opening.
Sometime during the fourth quarter of Monday Night Football I fell asleep. I awoke the following morning to the awful discovery that I had not only spilled several of the delectable little bits of chocolate, but had slept on them as well, effectively melting them to the nice white sheet.
Naturally I panicked.
I had met the housekeeper in the hall earlier in the day. She was a sweet Hispanic woman who I am sure does a great job and doesn't ever jump to conclusions as to the continence, or lack thereof, of her guests. Now, all I could imagine was that nice housekeeper, going about her business, probably humming a nice tune to herself, moving to make up the bed, and suddenly recoiling in horror, choking back a scream.
I had to do something. Already late for a morning meeting, I grabbed a notepad and scrawled out a hastily composed message that I left on the bed, sincerely hoping that it would clarify the dire situation.
Later, a coworker asked me, "How do you know she even spoke English?"
In hindsight, I probably should have said, "Esto no es caca. Honesto!"
But at least I left a nice tip.