Last year, I lived in various hotels for about four months out of the year, and I’ve learned a few things about soulful hotel living.

I don’t carry much with me when I’m in hotel mode, but here are a few things that I never leave home without.

1.     Lights - Christmas lights save me every time! I hate flourescent hotel lighting, so I simply string up some warm lights and - voila! - instant feel-good vibes for my temporary home. Basically, ‘home’ is where the christmas lights are. And candles are a good atmospheric touch - sexy and they smell good too!

2.     Fabric - Swaths of fabric or sarongs or saris are good to cover up anything that is ugly - from window treatments to hotel bedspreads and the like. (Sometimes I toss a cover on the TV, too.)

3.     Personal “luxury” items. Being on the road can be emotionally draining, so it’s nice to have some small things in my suitcase that are conducive to the ‘at-home’ vibe. Some of my own personal luxury items include a very well-made foam memory pillow,  a spoon that’s travelled with me for about 10,000 miles now and an antique porcelain cup for my toothbrush. These small things make me feel settled even when all of my clothing is crammed into a suitcase in the corner!

 Also pictured is a folding papasan chair I brought along for my cat originally, but since it’s pretty and it folds nicely, I think it will be added as a staple to my hotel life package. It’s so much more chill than the chairs provided!

Who lives in a hotel.

With her cat.

In Albuquerque.

We love it.

I was all stoked to move to ABQ and be settled and live with others and nestle down for the next eight months, immediately, in a home, in order to work comfortably on personal projects in my off time, while working hard at my new job. Maybe the Banana isn’t quite ready to live with others.

I’d only been living with the new roommates for less than one week when it became patently clear that I had to go. I won’t get into the details of it too much, but let’s just say that we had some diametrically opposing views on lifestyle choices. OK, look if someone you’ve found through Craigslist is calling you to be your new roommate and she is a self-proclaimed hippie chick who lives in Venice Beach, California and is into Burning Man, what the fuck kind of roommate situation do you think you’re getting yourself into?

So I quietly left on Sunday. To be more correct, I indeed slipped out the back (door), jack. During their house-warming party. Yes, that’s right. Truth told, I felt slightly bad about doing it that way, but the timing of finding my new place dictated the particulars on the move. It was actually pretty funny. My room had two entrances - one to the rest of the house and one to the backyard. So, as guests were coming in the front door, I continued to quietly carry boxes out the back. I did have to dodge three dogs, close the doors behind me so the cat would not escape and navigate two separate squeaking gates for each box lugged before getting to the car, but I was determined to do it all with grace, smiles and style.

The front gate of the yard has a tendency to stick, so as I was shoving boxes in the car, people were looking to me for help in opening the front gate. One guy said, “Getting out before the rush, then?”

More and more folks kept showing up, eventually filling the backyard. So, then I began to cart my shit out the front door. Then the party moved back inside and I snuck out the back some more. By that time, everyone knew that something was up. Every time someone would look at me, I would just smile and say a shining hello and be on my merry way. Plus I was dressed all rock n’ roll . . . boots, knee high stockings and a shirt proclaiming “Red Meat.” I overheard one of the guests say, “What . . . ? Was she a rabble-rouser?” Yeah, you could say that.

So the question I’m sure everyone is asking is . . . . where did I go? Please, read on. Frank and I are much happier now.

I stumbled into a ghetto grocery store in ABQ last night looking damn dapper.   A brown fuzzy hat, sleek black very high-heeled boots, a lacey purple skirt and a green scarf thingie wrapped around my chest to keep warm.

In the line to check out, a man with about four teeth remaining in his head looked me up and down and slowly smiled. “Well . . . you sure do dress . . . differ’nt.”

“I’m not from around here,” I smiled.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Neither am I.”

Who’d a thunk it?

I was moved to call my best friend from high school yesterday.

“Johanna!” I squealed with all the gusto of high school days. “You are never going to guess what band I’m going to see tonight . . . WINGER!”

And then we had a half-hour long conversation about how hot Kip was in that tank top in the photo of that one album, which the name of escapes me now, but I used to know every word to every song.

Apparently, Albuquerque is *the* capitol of big hair metal bands, 1980’s revived bands and smaller acts that other towns don’t get. George Clinton and Parliament Funk are playing a casino in a few weeks. The amphitheatre recently sold out for Iron Maiden. And god-damn if Kip Winger wasn’t in town last night. Unfortunately, the act ended super early and they wouldn’t even let us in the door.

Umm . . Kip . . dude . . . . it wasn’t even 11 o’clock yet. I know that your hey-day was 15 years ago, but 11? Really? I mean, I had my Aqua Net ready and everything.

This morning, as I drove through the interstate sprawl of ABQ to my second day of work, I was reflecting upon literally where I am presently located and figuratively upon where I am in life. And I looked up at that moment and spied a giant billboard proclaiming:

YOU ARE RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW. (Where do you want to be?)

Wow! What an answer . . . . and how timely!