Moving out of the Franconian Inn

We knew it was time to move out of the Inn when the hotel was starting to feel like home.  

Month #1 Home #1

Month #1 Home #1

We were there long enough to request repairs to a half-dozen things we noticed needed servicing. We, to include the kids, were on first-name basis with the cleaning staff, Bernie and David.  We had a regular laundry day.  Plus, every morning for breakfast the boys would raid the room in the basement where a small continental breakfast was offered, and it was beginning to become embarrassing to be associated with them.  They would bring armloads of individually wrapped blueberry, strawberry and double chocolate chip muffins along with boxes of individual chocolate milks up the stairs to our room, all this after having eaten several in the basement already.  Each day they would tell us how good the muffins were, and then leave a mess, because they knew the staff would shortly come and clean the rooms.  Meanwhile, they would access the several channels of English cartoons playing on the satellite TV 24 hours a day.  They would watch, lounging on the beds, until dragged out of the room.  If housekeeping came in while they were watching, I don’t think they even noticed.  They would turn the TV up while they vacuumed and stand while the beds were made, but then would resume their prone position and trance.  I’m sure they drooled their brains out.  I tried to make them read books, practice handwriting, and math, usually unsuccessfully.  We are glad to be out of there, in a place with no TV, and no junk-food muffins.

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