I found myself on Aurora Blvd that leads south down into Seattle at four a.m. this morning.  My time sense was screwed up and I found I could not go back to sleep in our musty room.  The bed was a killer and I was better off trying to walk away the time.  I found I COULD walk – in spurts – that took me past familiar business establishments that line older thoroughfares like this on Aurora.  I spent some time in front of a shop specializing in “surplus” paper goods.  It has three huge cargo trailers parked in the lot next to it.  I thought that, perhaps, I could find some really good drawing paper there and maybe a folder to protect my sketches and these writings.  But as I moved down past a Laundromat and some closed down purveyors of ancient services, I saw another, live one across the street.  It was the lighted welcome-ness of a Walgreen’s that was open twenty-four hours a day.

This became my destination and I gratefully went inside as the doors opened silently for me.  Because it is in the wee small hours of the morning, the opening doors rang a bell of warning.  I passed inside and a middle-aged man looked over my way.  We greeted each other and I asked where the soap and soap dishes were and, as an afterthought, added that I needed a portfolio to hold papers and where it could be found. He pointed out directions and, sure enough, there were soap bars and soap dishes.  Heartened by this I made my way to where were so many choices of covers and “portfolio” cases that I could not make up my mind and the top price was only $10.00. Unfortunately, I only had brought my card key to our room and had no wallet and no money.

I first chatted with the night manager about how Walgreen’s were positioned at diagonally distant ends of the United States and were so similarly laid out. I had used up more than an hour and the sky was lighting as I went out of the store and headed toward the Holiday Inn Express Motel and Suites I had noted on my way down.  I had to cross the street and realized what a sight I was presenting.  Here was an old guy who had to wait quite a time despite traffic being very light in order to cross a street.  Old men like me who cannot sleep probably pester the store clerks in early opening establishments.  Old men have early hours of restlessness and they wander where they can and look into shop windows and shadows for some familiar icon that can give silent comfort.

The Holiday Inn was another welcoming oasis of light and orderliness.  It was a recent addition to the North of Seattle sprawl towards the Canadian border.  The night clerk was accommodating for I asked questions about the rates and rooms.  He offered me coffee at the large and open dining room and gave me a key to a room on the ground floor for me to check out.  The room was smaller than our quarters at the Best Western, but had a new smell and its beds were a bit softer to my touch.

When I got back to our much older and musty smelling hotel, its dining room was open so I could now bring breakfast to Carol.  The choices were limited and I was convinced that, if we could, we should move across the street in the room in which I am presently writing this account. Carol did not need much convincing, we agreed to change our habitation, and so, we did.