Series: End of the Housing Woes

“Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep.”
I rolled over quickly to grab my phone and turned the alarm off. I had been lying on the bed awake, waiting for it to go off. My head was pounding like a pile driver, my throat was dry as sandpaper, and my sheets were soaked: I was ill. On top of that the hotel had informed me, the night before, that I had to get out of my room within two days. Great, only fourty-eight hours left, and no outlook on any semi-permanent place to settle.