Motels

Cheap hotels are literally cheap hotels. One must not expect anything more than the likeness of an underpaid service because that is the sort of service one receives from employees at cheap hotels. 

I am currently in a hotel so cheap it is called a motel. The front office is home to a decaying old dog who sleeps with its mouth open revealing torn away teeth, and the owner looks just the same. Approaching this man was challenging because he looks the type that will charge at you through decayed teeth and faltered eyesight.

The room itself is quite majestic. Rocking a faux 80s style, its beige-yellow bricks tidy and lined with warm yellow wood. Being a family room, it has a second story above, three beds and three beds on the lower level. Quite roomy, and barely any lighting though from all the reading I do I admire this lessened amount of lighting, and so does my eyesight. 

The main reason as to why I had desperately wanted to stay here is because of its admirable indoor heated spa and pool. Upon arriving here though we learnt that neither the pool nor the spa actually heat up, rather the actual room heats up while the water remains a chilly temperature which makes swimming or floating in a spa completely unbearable. 

I suppose our room is rather splendid though. It accommodates my need for a peaceful escape, and has sufficient personal lighting for my nighttime literature revival periods. 

When you book a cheap motel, expect nothing more than having to count your blessings. My bed is comfortable and clean, the room itself is clean and although the toilet seat swivels when you try to wipe yourself clean, it is too accommodating. Having said that though, I am yet to try the unlit shower.