TPR and I were living in a hotel. This was not as glamorous as it sounded. For example, although the hotel had a pool, it was unheated and outdoors, and whenever I used it I risked drowning.
It was also very impractical to live here and get any work done. This was largely due to the lack of space in our bedroom.
So each day I headed off to the public library to write. This strategy, however, had its own problems. The first was the the entrance to the library was almost inaccessible. It was a long drop down a basement without steps or a ramp. You had to take your life in your hands each time you jumped into the entrance pit. Once in position I did my best to help tiny 3 foot tall skeletal pensioners, who all suffered from brittle bone disease, by lifting them down to the reading room.
I also suffered the height of embarrassment when my class saw me trying to hide my naked body behind a coat rack.