where am I?

 I am trapped, of my own free will, in a strange house in a strange city with an alien cat while its owners are away.  I usually do well by voluntary confinement, and I hope to do so this time.  I remember a story told about Barbara Hutton, the millionairess, called the "Poor Little Rich Girl", whose first husband, on their honeymoon, locked hr in her cabin on board a luxury ship and didn't let her out for the duration of the crossing, to help  her lose weight.  She lost weight and health and love and trust.  I suppose I might lose some weight, too, although my friends' freezer is full and I brought lots of vegetables with me, but my purpose is not loss but gain.  I intend to go home with a completed manuscript of a book I have been working on for five years.  I'm very close, with about 20,000 words to go, not straightforward words, though, but fill-in the gaps, explain and enlarge, clarify and embellish words. That's why I need to be trapped, to force me to focus. And remember to feed the cat.