Friday

Housekeeping arrived around one yesterday and was done by one thirty. She changed the towels and sheets. She works for a company Oakwood contracts to clean these units. Dirty linen is packed into a storage area in building B, to which facility managers have limited access. Every few days this laundry is trucked down to a central facility, where it's presumably washed and returned to units as clean items. How many different complexes are served by this facility? I don't know. Have you ever owned anything so long it's grown special significance? Something familiarity has personified? I have a brown leather duffel bag like this. It's been everywhere I have. It's too small for the travel I do now but I persist in using it. When one of its straps broke after a routine bus station inspection in Morelia, I was so upset I almost cried right in line. Sunshine has a little lilac rabbit named Dora who's like this as well. Dora and Sunshine have been together since both were very young. Dora's full of character: she has rakishly cockeyed ears and a rather flat nose. She has a number of little sundresses. When I make the bed I prop Dora in the middle: a special little touch. Occasionally when I make up the bed Dora gets lost in the sheets. I know to look for her, however, so it always turns out okay. But yesterday housekeeping didn't know to look for Dora in the sheets, and we didn't notice she was missing until late. I spent all night fretting and learning about housekeeping, laundry, and one little locked door in B building. By this morning everyone knew to look for Dora in that sheet room, so everything eventually turned out okay. It was a close call. [Cavin]