On Paying for Things, OR the Value of Booking Ahead

My usual haunt was booked, so I made an online reservation for the place across the street. When I arrived and said I have a reservation, the receptionist shook his head and said, "Online Reservations no working. Sorry. We fully booking." So, already on the far side of the tuktuk tracks, I went down the back alley to the next place. There was another rung to climb down, but presently, traveling light takes precedence to traveling cheap/far, so I'm not equipped.
At other times, guesthouses are great: generally easy to find, and dirt cheap. But this level of accommodation necessitates flip-flops to protect you from the carpet, enough bleach to give the bathroom floor a quick cleanse and protect your flipflops from what's living there, and you probably don't want to trust the sheets and towels you can rent. And while such places save a few TB, my mind jumps to the cost of living with and treating whatever souvenirs I might contract from unprotected interactions and justify staying in a larger/newer/pricier place with AC and hotwater standard.
So I'm in the off-off hotel strip. Instead of big, bright fashion watches, toys for kidlets, commemorative tee shirts, and lucky amulet souvenirs, the curbside stands sell "designer" watches, pharmaceuticals, and fertility amulets.
Hallways are narrow and dark, walls are no longer white, corners are pockmarked, but the sheets, despite the stains and burnholes, smell clean.
I usually turn the aircon off, but the off switch had no apparent effect. Which was maybe not such a bad thing because cranking down on the hot water handle in the bathroom sink reduced the flow to a steady stream that dripped down the drain. And that in itself wasn't so bad because it helped mask the sound of rats or cockroaches in the walls (I made a point of not listening hard enough to tell). But as long as they aren't crawling over me, that's all well and fine, right? It's like worrying about proper, sterile rinsing or adequate refrigeration: don't order something obviously turning and scrape off the nasty bits, otherwise making a stink is only going to frustrate you and everyone else without changing a damn thing about the food.

But the morning broke me. Despite the sink faucet constantly running, the shower refused to, and the tub water came out a rich Ovaltine brown. After a good 8 or 10 minutes, the water appeared clear enough, so I poured in some soap--to help offset both the micro and macroscopic aspects--and hoped for a bath.
I just couldn't. Call it cappuccino, call it a mudbath, call it a mineral soak, natural water, raw or organic or sludge bearing all the detritus of the catchall sewer/canal, it's not something I'm interested in experiencing.

Icing: I picked up the phone, ignoring the grime, to call the front desk for a transfer to a room with a working shower.
I guess I can't say I was surprised, but I will confess disappointment when the phone didn't work.