They didn't think there would be room for me. I was the donkey and the pregnant woman in one, carrying the weight of the paper about to be delivered, and I was the father who was not, searching for a small space where I could finish my labour. From door to door I walked, tiredly, until several key-holders agreed to let me in - not into the humble room I asked for, certainly not to a private office, but up a stair, around a corner, into the almost forgotten laboratory, still not certain this would be an acceptable place.
Trembling with exhaustion, I sank down, unloaded the weight of my luggage and supported myself as deliverance approached.
Problem is - this empty lab which they had all forgotten about has 20 live computers and not a single user, and I just can't decide where I want to sit and write. Do I want a view? Do I want to be able to see the door? Do I want to avoid the cool draft from the window? Imagine the choices reduced to one manger and a pile of straw - so much easier than having to actually make up my mind.