When you come visit, and you will, the fun starts immediately, because you get to pick your bedroom. I know you’re tired. Six hours of Everybody Loves Raymond and a plane mate who likes SkyMall portraits of dogs as 17th century nobility will drain you. Slap yourself awake, let’s start the tour, and you’ll sleep soon.
The Cave is perfect for introverts or people that need their space to obsess about whatever it is they obsess about. Probably extreme home fitness and converters that don’t work in Europe. Guys, I have hair dryers, don’t worry. The Spanish Cherub was a total mistake, but now she’s the most in-demand room, especially among foreign exchange students and washed-up artists. Things do tend to get raucous, so if you are addicted to crossword puzzles and Chapstick, skip the party den, it will overwhelm you. Then there is this lovely spare corner where I house Frontgate enthusiasts and monks. Conversion and confirmation. Oh. And here is the room you’ll want to sleep if you have a mystery lover who you met while wandering Champ de Mars and pretending to understand sous-texte. Play along, it’s fun.
Mes fleurs, feast your eyes upon the newest masterpiece at the château. He’s mysterious. Wants you to relax. Offers you champagne, but then blinds you with that four-point adjusting light. Dentists love this room because that light can work magic. It swivels in any direction with a flick of the wrist, illuminating just the right angle of your thigh, and perhaps those wisdom teeth that should have been removed twenty five years ago. Whatever, dentists are so interventional. The good news is that the bed is only a foot off the ground so when you need to escape, just tuck and roll to the bathroom. Hopefully he’s readjusted the light by the time you’ve flossed.
Tomorrow you can choose a new bedroom.
Welcome home, loves.