The butter melts out of habit

People are creatures of habit I think. I’d like to think that I’m the sorta girl who can roll with the punches and is happy to take on whatever comes, but I find myself, even when I’m away from home, falling into routine.

I do a bit of travel for the job – I mean, for anyone who ever met me that’s pretty obvious. It’s never for very long, but I spend a decent amount of my time, when you add it all together, in hotels and airports. Even though I’m usually heading to different places to do different things, there’s some stuff I’ve found myself routinely doing –

  • Deliberately not eating before leaving for the airport so I can pick up sushi while I’m there. These are the things living in Wilberforce drives me to. Note to anyone anywhere out there who cares – if you open a sushi place in Windsor, you are guaranteed at least one office full of customers, okay?

  • Listening to either Glosoli by Sigur Ros or The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us! by Sufjan Stevens on repeat while I’m at the gate waiting for the plane to board.

  • Picking up a Jilly Cooper novel from home to read on the plane, even though I’ve A) read them all at least once before and B) am in the middle of 2 or 3 other books at any one time. There’s something comforting about reading absolute trash that I’ve read before while I’m away from home. This trip it was ‘Rivals’.

  • Packing my every day toothbrush, even though I have one specifically for travelling so as to avoid the whole packing thing.

  • Packing the same pair of pyjama bottoms and bed socks for every trip to sleep in.

  • Hitting the snooze button. This is not something I do at home. I may lay in bed awake for about half an hour, listening to ABC 702, but as soon as the alarm goes at home I’m awake. When I’m away I hit snooze at least twice, and because of that I have to set the damn alarm 20 minutes earlier.

  • I call Angela in Wagga. She and I have been friends for many, many years, and we keep in touch pretty regularly. I usually think of her when I’m away from home for some reason, so I call her.

What is it about hotel rooms that make you feel the aloneness? Maybe it’s the lack of normal distractions or just the general feeling of being out of context. I don’t know what it is, but I usually end up getting the urge to call people. Generally, at home, there’s nothing I avoid more.

I was glad to be able to come home tonight. It actually wasn’t that hard a sell – missing a formal dinner at $150 a head where she can network more effectively than I can, and tomorrow the workshops didn’t require us both to be there. Also, there is a significantly large issue at work that needs dealing with tomorrow. I was more than happy to get on that plane tonight, because I was half hoping early this week that I could do it if I worked things the right way. There’s nowhere I’d rather be tonight than home.

I do really love Melbourne though. The conference was at the Sofitel which is on Collins Street, and the cocktail/reception/wanky thing was on the 35th floor. It was a good 10 minutes before I even noticed the view and when I did I made a noise like ‘ooooooh!’ Very impressive and I’ve always loved the city at night.

I wrote a whole post last night about the hotel I stayed in, but then I hit something I wasn’t supposed to, and sort of lost it, and then couldn’t be assed finding it again. It was all at once the most awesome and weirdest hotel I’ve ever stayed in. Actually, it was a motel, one of those road side motels with the rooms running in two stories around the car park, and it was built in the 1970s. All the d??cor is still original, I’m sure of it. The most hilarious thing was the postcards in reception – they actually had postcards made from photographs taken of the rooms. I picked up a few and I will send some and keep one or two. I don’t think enough people send postcards. Apparently I do it more than average.

Who doesn’t like getting postcards though?

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