A few years ago, Hans and I were between our old house and new digs. Construction delays on our new place meant moving into a hotel.
What was originally supposed to be three months turned into six. That’s 173 days. But who’s counting.
That’s where these two stories begin: We were 63 days into our extended stay at the hotel.
And I’ve never been more clear: What you focus on is what you get.
You see, I can tell two stories of the extended stay hotel experience. Both are true. But only one is energizing.
Story #1
The first story recounts two people living in only 303 square feet.
Once upon a time, they encountered…
- a heroin overdose across the hall
- being moved multiple times for maintenance issues
- what sounds like bowling balls dropped repeatedly on the ceiling in the wee hours
- a week-long WI-Fi outage
- the never-ending hum of expressway traffic outside the window
- fitness center privileges suddenly and mysteriously being revoked
- a bathroom light that sounds like a jet engine
- the upstairs neighbor bowling at midnight again
- a power outage…and then another one
- water splashing from the toilet bowl with each flush—even with the lid closed
- repeated billing errors
- a box of half eaten chicken bones sitting atop the stairwell trash bin…for days
- window screens with gaps big enough to let in bugs (or small birds, for that matter)
- a phone that works about half the time
- $4 investment to do a load of laundry
- the sound of those thudding bowling balls again
…and so the story goes.
Story #2
The second story is also true. But this one focuses on the connected togetherness of those same 303 square feet.
Once upon a time, we:
- used our new digs as a clean slate to keep the TV turned off and the conversation turned on
- spent more time reading and enjoying great books
- grinned and giggled while sitting at the tiniest table, knees touching, eating a simple dinner prepared on a two-burner cooktop
- revived working out together, something we’d stopped doing years ago
- really appreciated the few creature comforts we’d brought with us and treasured how they made a room into a home
- looked forward to strolling to Whole Foods in the evening for sushi or a decadent dessert
- planned fun-filled weekend jaunts in and around the city, figuring if we live in a hotel we’re going to act like we’re on vacation
- reveled in the amazing water pressure (When trying to be positive about the hotel stay, I wrote Yelp reviews in my head about the joy of great water pressure.)
- enjoyed watching awe-inspiring cranes almost daily in the nearby lagoons
- embraced that 303 square feet is more than enough
- practiced not sweating the small stuff, reminding ourselves most things really are a First World Problem
What’s the focus?
Focusing on the first story, I feel frustrated, irritable, inconvenienced, drained.
Living through that focus felt like a day half-lived, squandered. As if I’ve made my serenity about all the external instead of that quiet place inside.
It was never more clear: The kind of day I experience depends not on the facts of the day, but which facts I choose to focus on.
I was by no means perfect during our 6-month hotel stay. Some days all I focused on is the bathroom outlet not working.
But day by day and moment by moment, I would gently focus and refocus. I wanted to make sure my focus allowed me to tell the kind of story with a happy ending.
Sure, your day is made up of external factors and situations beyond your control. But where are you focused? Could you tell a different story if you focused differently?
