They don’t want me staying in their homes. I understand.
I need to explain. It’s not that I have noisome habits, or talk with my mouth full or put my elbows on the table ‘or nothing’. It’s more that I am singular in my waking and sleeping. I wake early, as you know, and it has become ingrained, to stop now would unsettle me. So my routine disturbs theirs, which is, of course, more normal. I understand. And if I’m honest I prefer the anonymity of a hotel. I feel constrained in the other people’s houses, I always have. I try too hard to do what I think is best. I try too hard to be a good, an exemplary houseguest, except, that is, in my rising. So there we have it. She loves me and I love her but she pulls a face when I suggest we might stay. A hotel it is then.
