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I spent a couple of hours fumbling in my room, packing my suitcase and enraging myself at the futility of flying all my running gear across the Pacific Ocean, when the most exercise I had this week was a ten minute run on a treadmill. I just hope my diet of fried food, cheese, and fried cheese hasn't led to my blood turning into clarified butter by the time I get back to Hong Kong.
There had been promises that the snow would dissipate today, but I looked out the window to see things still clear and crisp and even. At least I've slept well enough that I can view this with equanimity, rather than utter rage. You can't get mad at meterological conditions.
I did mean to get mad at my neighbours. The suite that adjoins my room has a connecting door, and every half hour the occupant of that suite would rattle the handle of the door, as if they were hunting for extra wardrobe space and couldn't figure out why that door didn't open for them. This carried on all yesterday afternoon, and I suppose the logical thing would have been to retaliate. I should have banged on the door and demanded they open up, claiming to be the hotel police and needing to make an urgent inspection.
It would, of course, be embarassing to then discover there was a small child, or a dog, on the other side of the door. There are a lot of dogs in the hotel today, which strikes me as wasteful. They're covered in fur and should be well suited for gambolling in the snow. Keeping them indoors is like keeping huskies in subtropical environments, and it's not like anyone does that.
Except for Hong Kong and Singapore, of course. Again, maybe it's time to retaliate: I should have brought a komodo dragon to Seattle as a pet.
Enough of this: I have a plane to catch. And a taxi to take me to the plane, or at least the promise that a vehicle might materialise this morning to take me away from all this.
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