My first night in Indianapolis couldn’t have gone better. The hotel was awesome, entire table of Italian food delicious, company hilarious. We even went to a Jillian’s (like chucky cheese for adults). Everything had been unique and ideal until we got back to the hotel.

Right now you’re wondering what was missing or maybe who moved in to the room next door. But the neighbors were certainly okay, being friends of mine, and everything was in the same place I’d left it. No, it wasn’t until I pulled back the sheets that terror gripped my heart.

My first thought was holy malarkey there’s a g-string on my bed (well…that’s kind of what I thought). I looked closer, even better, a wad of Kleenex. Used Kleenex.  And, yes, I called and had the bedding changed.

How did it get there? Why didn’t anyone check the bed before new guests checked in? Use my unforgettably absorbing experience for your own writing purposes.