Up in Room 10

People are really living down to my expectations lately, and I’m perversely satisfied by that. It gives me something to tuck away when the glass half-full types try to convert me. I mean I myself am trying to become a half-full type, but 5 minutes of national news—or on a more personal note, discussion with a local company whose product JACKED UP MY TEETH—kills that off.

As a result, life has felt so…grubby…lately. And when a vulgar person such as myself can’t stop thinking, “Hmmmm, I really wish I could exfoliate from the inside out” I’d say the world needs to find its sense of decency, sir.

But a year ago, just back from my 40th birthday jaunt, I was high on life and beauty. Given how depressing I’m finding that thought, I can tell I might just benefit from an attitude adjustment.

FEEL THE LOVE. ENVISION THE PEACE. PUT DOWN THE BLUNT OBJECT.

Anyway: While most of my trip memories are positive ones, the thought of Room 10 sends me to an outrageously relaxing place. A place where I don’t want to bludgeon in-my-opinion wrongdoers senseless. Since it’s impossible for me to ACTUALLY be there, it seems prudent to have a tangible reminder front and center:

Seven Bridges Hotel, April 2009: The proprietors' welcoming tulips + wonderful antiques awaited us in Room 10

After walking through 10’s door, I admit I was torn between exploring Amsterdam and never leaving the room—and not just because the characteristically steep canal house stairs were a little intimidating. [I left. But we lingered over the delicious breakfast.]

More Seven Bridges Hotel: L, view from Rm 10; R, lavish breakfasts that come with one's room

And now that I’m (way) back in RealityLand, Room 10 still exerts its magic by encouraging me to maintain environmental serenity and an appreciative perspective.

Because while I may have egregiously piss-poor behavior and resulting bills with which to cope, I too have tulips. And a garden view. And a city to explore. And (mysteriously) Mr Vix suddenly bringing me the occasional bedside coffee.

Vix Household bedroom windows...a pretty nice view as well!

My under-the-eaves oasis includes a quartet of soothing (repro) Alexander Jackson Davis watercolor'd architectural drawings

So if I can manage not to knock over this one-third full glass, maybe I can find a way to gradually add a little something to it. Too bad I can’t seem to convert my anger to tears, though: it’s a pretty safe bet I’d fill that headed-for-dry sucker right up and have a gallon to spare.

You can find tons of official pictures of Room 10 and its neighbors at the Seven Bridges Hotel site.

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5 Responses

  1. I really love the way you’ve framed and hung the drawings. I like everything on your walls, come to think of it, especially the convict mugshots.

    And I want that breakfast. I’m sitting here eating boring raw broccoli, and you show me that!

  2. Boy I hear ya…people are so unbelievably STUPID these days…it was supposed to be the other way around!

    May I suggest that you enlarge your favorite pics of your Room 10 experience and frame them? You could hang them in different parts of your home for constant reminders of how nice life can be.

    It’s cool that your house has beams reminiscent of Amsterdam. Lucky you!

  3. Bingo — Thank you! Apparently you and I are in the minority on loving the convict shots but what can we say? That a one-armed man named “Inky” shouldn’t be allowed to be forgotten?

    Sorry about the suggestive photo. God knows my freezer/pantry wasn’t giving up much last night and I had to settle for something that tasted good but was healthy-ish, so I feel your pain. WHERE ARE MY CROSSAINTS er CROISSANTS um PASTRIES, DAMMIT?

    We spent most of that trip in a delightful apartment where I made light breakfasts every morning, so you can imagine the saucer eyes when The Feast was delivered to the door two mornings in a row.

    Someone — Good idea about the framing; I may have to add that to my list of photos I want to hang! As mentioned above, I tend toward photos of convicts (and sewer covers) but I do have a few normal ones, ha.

    And yes, I am so lucky to get to sleep under beams *and* to feel like I’m in a treehouse. Love that.

  4. As far as “happy places” go, that’s a pretty good one! And glad to see you brought elements of it back into your life…

    One thing I have to remind Mr. Buff of from time to time. “Yes, darling, I know you wish we were at XYZ but we can still do what we did there and enjoy the local scenery…”

  5. Buff — Exactly. And you are welcome to kick my ass as well as Mr Buff’s when that gets forgotten.

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