"Is there Hate in my room?"

That is what a woman just called down to ask me. I've been having a really tough night. Mostly because I suddenly have gotten sick and it feels like there's a sandbag inside my head. I even drank some of that POM stuff, which I hate on principle, in hopes that the "antioxidants" would help, whatever they are. Also, the genius/total asshole who runs this hotel decided that, effective immediately, absolutely no one, even the people who have been coming here for 15 years, would be getting a discount rate. So I get to be cruel, and I get to get yelled at, justifiably, by jilted customers. And I hate to admit this, but I've been having the slightest, creeping doubts about the ultimate redeeming power of love. So yes, ma'am, it's possible there is Hate in your room tonight. What's that? Ohhh, heat. Heat, oh, yes, I'll get right on that, ma'am.


UPDATE: OMG, Hallelujah, Love is all you need, not thirty seconds after my whiny, why-won't-the-world-just-take-a-dive complainathon, a homely, older Scottish couple comes in with some balloons. "Birthday?" I inquire. "Our son, " the woman confirms evenly. The man looks me over a bit, and then sort of nudges his wife. She looks at me more closely, then softens up a bit. "Would you like a piece of cake?" she asks gently, and hands over a slab of decadent (and undoubtedly expensive) chocolate cake. I totally melt and thank them profusely and tell them it was exactly what I needed and my expression makes it clear that I mean that on a number of levels, and they seem rather pleased to have been able to make me so pleased.

Just then another lady's leaving the hotel and she gives me a really sympathetic look and asks if I want coffee and then tells me to "hang in there,' which I appreciate even if it is totally meaningless. Another older man who looked a little bit like Brian Cox comes in and give me a roguish wink.

Damn you, Jesus! Just when I think I've gotten out, you pull me back in !