Well, I'm back in a hotel.
And lucky to be so.
My landlord called today to tell me during an annual furnace check, two exhaust pipes were found leaking into the closet where the mechanicals are stored.
We don't know how long it's been leaking but it's possible the leaks were small if the furnace was burning efficiently.
It's also possible the discovery saved me from something bad happening.
Now I'm back at the Steakhouse Lodge, home to me for a month before getting in my house, when I had my first official address in some time.
Thankfully, these folks are family to me. I made lifelong friends so it's a perfect refuge until I can, once again, get home. In fact, before having to move back into the motel, the owner asked me to join them on Thanksgiving, after they close, for the staff dinner.
Oh, there have been gas smells in my home before -- particularly after I ate a sausage and sauerkraut pizza from either Angler's or Coop's. (This is a thing in Wisconsin that everyone elsewhere should try.)
But that's a natural smell that has followed me in my travels.
Over the years, I have become nothing if not flexible about my surroundings.
And I'm in room 15, just 14 rooms from a warm bar, good food and my local family.
I'll likely be at the hotel through the weekend and my long, strange trip has been significantly worse. So there's that.
Peace and safety unto you my brothers and sisters.
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