Neurotic Freakout Alert

So, tomorrow we roadtrip to Coeur d'Alene, Idaho for a weekend of soccer tournament fun. I am really excited for some family windshield time, scenery photo ops, fun activities in the town, and watching the games . . . but I am not looking forward to the hotel.

I don't know what happened to me. When I was a kid staying in a hotel was on the top of my "best things in the world" list. The ice machines. The bouncy beds. The cable TV. The long hallways. The POOL! Then suddenly, somewhere in my twenties everything changed. All I could see was the germ-infested door knobs. The nasty beds with those horrid paisley coverlet thingies (thank goodness The Hampton's starting a trend of white duvets). That ultra-nasty booger-pee-dirty-flithy dark carpet. The threat of bringing home a herd of bed bugs in your suitcase. Aaaack! I don't care if it's a 4-star hotel, the whole thing just nauseates me enough to make me consider sleeping in my car. 

Honestly people, if Gary would allow me, I think I would sleep in the car.

I know this isn't normal. I mean sure, no one's really super comfy in a hotel room. But I think my infliction is borderline looney and I fear I'm passing it on to my kids. "Shoes ON at all times," I yell when I see one of them has kicked off their flip-flops. "Eeeek - do NOT set your duffel bag on the FLOOR!" I yell as I whip the bag up onto the credenza. Poor girls. I try to relax, really I do. But I just can't stop myself.

And don't even get me started on gas pump handles, the elementary school door handle, or public restrooms. There's a whole LIST stuff you can't touch or do in a public restroom. I'm just glad I birthed girls so I can be there to show them how it's done. If I had boys they would be running amok with Gary in the men's restroom and I would have to slather their entire bodies with hand sanitizer when they came out. Have you SEEN a men's bathroom? I have and it scarred me for life.