In bed with Murdoc

Julie took both photos with flash over the wall she designed in our hotel room. Yes, she designed it. If I am MacGyver, she is Murdoc.

(Oh come on. Murdoc is a frequent bad guy on MacGyver. He's a douche.)

We got in an argument about the shower curtain assembly. She claimed that the rods were unnecessary since you could just tie rope across the room and hang the curtain from the rope. I mean yes, I suppose you could do that, but it's an inelegant solution, like holding the bumper to your car with bungee cords.

Ultimately her design won because I left my pocket knife (for cutting lengths of rope to tie the rods to the--you get it) at home. So now there's rope tied around a part of the window and stretched across the room and wrapped around the entire headboard like some total wackjob thought of it.

I mean seriously: it looks kinky.

But Lyla's asleep behind the curtain. We got here successfully after stopping halfway to stay a brilliant night at the home of friends who have a son that Lyla will marry one day if we manipulate things cleverly enough. We're reasonably refreshed now and not feeling any of the mild hatred that would've come from doing the whole trip in one day.

I should sleep in preparation for the beach tomorrow. Plus, if I don't stop this clicking and clacking in the bed soon, Murdoc here is going plot my assassination.