I’m traveling for work over the next few days. I’m staying at The Ace Hotel in NY, where I’ve stayed before when I’ve come here for work. It’s ridiculously hip, as is The Ace in Palm Springs where I’ve also stayed. I can only imagine that it’s the same case in Seattle and Portland.

Some people love hotels. They love the amenities, the newness and freshness, and luxury of it all. I, without a doubt, am not one of those people. My bed is all about intimacy and home. It smells a certain way, feels a certain way, has familiarity to it that’s consistent night after night. It’s home.

Hotel beds are all newness and different pillows, figuring out how many blankets to use or not use, angling the alarm to the light hits not your face while your sleeping, and a variety of other intricacies that challenge my ability to sleep. Last night I got into bed around midnight and found myself awake at 3:30 am, and then restless for the next four hours. It may be the time difference (that almost certainly contributed to it), but there’s something uncomfortable about a hotel bed, even if it feels so comfortable when you slide into it.

I hope I sleep better tonight.