Oh B&B's ... you are quaint.
Roaring fires when you walk in the doors ... hot chocolate in mugs waiting for chilly visitors ... even a friendly cat named Mr. Mittensface - but no LOCKS on the doors?
What is this? A hippie commune?
I mean I can lock myself IN ... but when I leave am I going to come back to Jonah the innkeeper wearing my dress and heels blogging on the TUP?!?
The real Virginia is frightening ... I want to go back to D.C. where paranoia and mistrust of my neighbor is as American as apple pie.
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1 comment:
Mr. Mittensface has pushed your door open and used your fuzzy slippers as his litter box.
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