I am in Boston for a pitch. Once again, my powers of packing appropriately for the task at hand have failed me.
I cannot claim exhaustion, having packed this morning at a leisurely pace. So how exactly I find myself standing here in my hotel room at midnight with no toothbrush, toothpaste, eye make up remover, or clean undergarments is entirely beyond me.
I called the concierge, who assured me in a smiley voice that the hotel can furnish me with complimentary oral hygiene products; fifty-seven minutes later, hope is fading fast that these will in fact materialize.
Decide to take eye make up removal into my own hands using hotel shower gel, with disastrous results. My eyes, surrounded by indelible black smudges, appear to be bleeding.
Wipe my teeth clean on a towel and get into bed.
Lie awake, concerned.
Quite how I will deal with the undergarment situation tomorrow morning remains to be seen. Maybe I can do something creative with the disposable shower cap.
Transparent plastic knickers.
I shudder myself to sleep.