Cheap Hotel California

Since plucking myself into America, I learned that motel is short for mobile hotel. Back in my country of origin which a lot of fucked up flips who have also plucked themselves out of the country have so been fondly calling P.I., motels are for one-night stand quickies. 
I am using the free-wifi in this cheap hotel California, seven miles away from my home address, and pretend that my home is in  Battleground, WA and RN and I are just visiting to be present at a significant milestone for the older daughter. The Godzilla room which is actually a hoarder's room has become part of my long-term memory and it no longer annoys me to think about it. And so is Ayeddis Vahkkendjaab! 
I pretend I am here to revisit El Cajon Peak and ride the trolley into San Ysidro and crossover the border to look for Tijuana Zonkeys. I am also going to return to Tecate Peak and take pictures of the whole of Tecate, a city of Baja California where real Mexican food is served. Yep, I would also visit the PCT Southern Teminus monument and take pictures of Mexico from a hole on the wall. 
I wonder if the hotel staff would come chase me out of this breakfast room. I don't like to go back to our room, it smells of sewage gas. Karlee is on a sleepover at Julia Sandberg's house and RN has gone out on patrol with another retired volunteer who yesterday presented himself at the ER because he thought he was having a heart attack. I was looking forward to be joining the Wednesday in the Mountains at Arroyo Seco at the Cuyamaca Mountains with the Sierra Club, San Diego Chapter for the first time but RN told me to stay for the check out time. 
Tonight, we won't be homeless anymore. There won't be any sewage gas smell I am sure. I wonder what a newly fumigated house smells like.

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