A Writer's Notebook, Day One-Thousand-Three-Hundred-And-Seventy-Four

Melissa and I made it to Columbus this evening, but it has been crazy.  We arrived at the house and found it wasn't in a condition where we can stay there, so we decided that we needed to check in to a hotel for the night, probably for the next several nights, to be honest.  Of course, it turned out that tonight every room at every hotel in town is booked.  I called a major hotel chain that has at least a dozen hotels here in town and they could not find a room at any of their properties.  Eventually, we found a room.  It was incredibly overpriced, and when we got to the hotel, they didn't have working hot water.  They still wanted more than $400 for one night, which had seemed a bit ridiculous even before we knew about the hot water being off.  After another hour or so, we were able to get a room at another hotel, but it has been just exhausting.  I was ready to skip my work and just go to bed, but I knew I had to write, so here I am.  I wrote my prose and my poems and now I am here, and even if all I do is complain about my evening on here tonight, I am still glad I did the work.

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