The hotel was quite dated but clean. The room was strangely laid out but spacious. It was a good deal, I think.
What really set fire to my imagination was the hint of old that it exuded. All I could think about was buying this hotel and renovating it into a steampunk masterpiece. How fun would that be? Could you make the antique elevator see-through so you could see the floors as you were travelling? Restoring the main entrance to a suitable level of grandeur? Ripping off the back pool addition and making a fabulous patio walk-out for the restaurant. Making doors that disappeared?
Sometimes I wonder about my brain. Couldn't I be using some of this creativity for my own income? It feels like I'm wasting it by spending so much time developing ideas for something that will never happen. I read today that creativity can't be turned off without killing it. Apparently so.
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