Our (new) room

 Our (new) room 

We have decided to stay where we are for as long as we are here. (That will be until I wake up, I’m thinking.) “Where we are” meaning at the hotel. The hotelkeeper, Tural, has offered us a weekly rate, considerably less than the daily rate, even less if we only have our sheets and towels changed on Mondays and Thursdays. And he will move another armchair into the room and, if we want, take out the table-and-two-chairs and put in a desk.

     I think we like the table better than a desk though I’ll have to ask Roz. We need another chair, though, or a sofa. And either would be fine. Tural asked, too, if we’d rather have a sofa than a second chair. I told him I’d check to see.

     It’s a big enough room for either the two chairs (with footstools) or a couch and a coffee table in addition to the table-and-chairs and the two narrow beds. We could push the beds together, too, Tural says. “If you wish it.” I tell him I’ll ask Roz. (I think we wouldn’t because it would put the doubled bed out of alignment with the wooden crucifix that hangs over the one and the faded Virgin and Child over the other.)

The table is under the window that looks out onto the street and through which if you stand in just the right place you can see a slice of the harbor. The window is directly opposite the door. The walls are almost the same green that was in your junior-high-school classroom in the sixties. The ceiling from the picture rail up is white. There’s a faded Turkey carpet on the floor.

     Roz says, “Sofa,” which is already on the wall opposite the beds. “Sofa,” she says, “if we can have a lamp at each end.” Tural says we can. So (not very good resolution, does not do credit to my excellent drawing):

 08.22.17