Earlier this evening, I returned from a short trip to Cleveland. My niece, Ashley and I ventured just four hours West of Buffalo via car rental, to the Cleveland Institute of Art. Ahh, the joys of college visits and interviews. Brings back glutinous memories of Raman Noodles and Little Debbie Snacks; where a couple of quarters and a cup of water provided adequate sustenance for a learning brain. Remember those days, my friends?
Soft squishy beds, a cooler full of pop and munchies, bathing suits and a taste for trouble led us to yet another stay at the Hilton. And never to disappoint, this stay proved quite the adventure.
The funny thing about being on the cusp of 11,000 days old, is that it is still quite easy to pass for anything between 17 and current age of, um, 10, 931 days old. So I internally find humor in such questions as "Are you going to be a freshman this year?" and "Are you old enough to drink?" -- Why deary, I sure am, *pinches cheek*
After playing on the elevator (it has mirrors on the ceiling!), jumping on the bed (because, I can do that), checking the TV for cool channels (I was instantly homesick for digital) and contemplating room service (idea dismissed, easy cheese and crackers beckoned), we get into our swim gear and excitedly headed down ten flights to the Jacuzzi and swimming pool.

Swimming is fun, swimming is nice
swimming amidist the fragrance of super Chlorine concentrate, is not.

or try this:

Indoor swimming pool
Lovely, warm as bath water
Chlorine headache sucks

As an indoor pool, we stuck around for a bit, thinking maybe the chlorine aroma was just in the air.
However our excursion into the deeply disinfecting, left both of us with the unsexy scent of bleach lingering aggressively on our temporarily scaly and pruned skin.

A scrub down with hotel issued shampoo, conditioner and soap proved to be a fruitless effort.
We sat in our dehydrated smelly state through the remainder of the night and well into the next day. However we stopped at a discount store and purchased the heaviest moisturizing lotion we could find, which happened to be Almond and Shea Butter cream. The chlorine odor permeated through the first six applications before settling into a more almondesque aroma.
I have yet to tackle the chlorine induced dry heap of straw that is my hair. Although in a state of emergency, it will have to wait:

I have email to check, kitties to love and brownies to eat.

Ahh, it is always good to be home!
Carey