About one and one-half lifetimes ago, when I was going to college in southern Minnesota, I rented two rooms in the upstairs of an old mansion. One was a kitchen about 12 X 12 feet, a small walk-through closet and a very small bedroom. If you took the room above, and put the doorway on the opposite side and paneling on the walls, you'd have it. There was enough room for a twin bed, a dresser, and a floor lamp.
Fortunatly, there were two huge windows in the right-hand wall. And the sweetest litttle-old-lady landlady - who helped keep me fairly sane through 2 years of school. After 6 years in the Navy, it was tough for me to still, pay attention, and keep my mouth shut.

Huzzah! I finally found the real location of this hospital. It took several months of dilligent searching. I've found something to occupy my evenings - since watching the boob tube bores me to tears. I've managed to identify over 20 of the covertly-named asylums. It keeps me occupied. Don't worry, Motts. I'll not publish the names or locations. I wonder what it would be like to have a life?