Control Freak

Yes, I’m a control freak. I keep a tight grip on life’s events. I prearrange good, solid plans (read: predictable). I don’t go for the outlandish. However, I’m married to an adventurer. When he plans something, it’s usually beyond my carefully manicured boundaries. I’ve been rightfully accused of shooting down his ideas. So when Thom asked to let him plan where we’d stay while attending a conference, it was a long overdue privilege.
Excitedly, he checked out everything from a large sailboat to a motor home. He settled on a lovely fully furnished home nestled in the woods. He found it on the Internet (red flag). We arrived late. For the right effect, start humming Hotel California…. “My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim, I had to stop for the night.”

The “hostess” gave us a key, wished us well and quickly left. Once inside we noticed the lovely home was decorated with dozens of scary masks, creepy art, and graphic paintings. This was not some vacation condo. This was someone's home—someone with a “unique” taste in decorating. A quick check of the closet confirmed it: clothing, shoes, dressers with socks and skivvies, bathroom with toothbrushes and all the personal effects…it was as if someone had just left so we could come in.

That's when Thom had his first bout of regrets. It didn't help when I told him there were probably hidden cameras. It was late, so I told him he could stay up if he wanted, I was going to bed. The bedroom had more masks—so I turned off the lights. As I slipped between the sheets of someone else’s bed, I noticed the glowing eyes of the huge Buddha hanging on the wall. Not my kind of nightlight.
I switched on the nightstand lamp and noticed a book propped against it….a small journal. Yes, I couldn't resist opening it. Only three pages were used. Strange poetic passages that all ended with death. Then I glanced over at the awful picture hanging next to the bed. I wondered if it was a sacrifice, or grief stricken people lying at the feet ofsomeone who died. Perfect for sweet dreams.

The next morning Thom was willing to take me to the Best Western. More than anything, my amazing husband tries to please me. While I had never stayed at a place quite like this I couldn’t imagine being without the one who brought me here. I looked into his loving eyes and knew he wanted out time to be special—did the creepy art really matter? And I’m pretty sure there weren’t any hidden cameras.
Still humming the words from Hotel California….”You can check out any time you like but you can never leave”. We stayed. It was fun in a brand new way. I learned a big lesson about being a control freak: you may get just what you want and miss out on something far better. I can’t wait to see what Thom finds next. The Best Western is just way too predictable for me now. Got travel plans? I’ve got the perfect guy to plan it.


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