We made it

Well, we're here, sort of.  We flew through West Virginia, blasting "Country Roads" and singing along while Jack writhed in agony in the back seat.  The Oakwood wasn't ready for us, and after a week of crappy midwestern hotels, we were happy to find a nice four-star city lodging that both accepted dogs AND did not have bedbugs.  Just typing the word 'bedbugs' still makes me itch.  Upon check-in, there was a little table with a glass pitcher filled with water and exotic-looking fruits.  A little sign proclaimed it "fruit ambrosia".  The kids all excitedly poured themselves a tiny cup, being used to only seeing Coke machines in hotel lobbies.  Olivia tried it first.  She took a tiny sip, set the cup down, and whispered, "I think it's cleaning soap.  We're not supposed to drink this."  The rest of the kids backed slowly away.  We were starving, so after we checked in, we were directed to the restaurant/lounge in the lobby, which was basically a fancy bar with tables, the kind kids would never be allowed to go in back home.  There was a particularly belligerent drunk guy at the bar, so, fortunately, the entertainment during dinner was free.

After spending the entire day in the car watching movies, Olivia wasted no time in getting the hotel TV turned on.  We weren't even in the door with our bags yet.  She also commented that yesterday was the fastest day of our whole trip (it consisted of nine hours of straight driving while the kids watched movie after movie). I have yet to gleefully remind her of the no TV rule on school days. Jack and Grace discovered the plush robes in the closet, and they claim the hotel management will have to remove them from their cold, dead, bodies.  Today we are meeting an agent to look at rental houses.  I am feeling desperate to get the kids in school, and I can't do that without an address.  They could go to school from the Oakwood, but the charming school secretary promised me that they would be kicked out the minute we moved out of the school district, and since we already know that Mitch's first assignment will be DC for two years, we need to find a more permanent place.

We are excited to be here.  The traffic is not much different than Seattle, but there are more freeways to get lost on, and the GPS can be such a bitch with her smug voice, saying, "RECALCULATING!  RECALCULATING!" every time you make a wrong turn.  I have a love/hate relationship with it.  I tried to change the voice to a nice British man's voice, but since it wasn't Colin Firth, it did nothing for getting me from point A to point B. Right now, however, my biggest concern is finding six pairs of clean underwear to get us through the next 24 hours.