I've got a little nest on the couch, and I've been spending a lot of time there. My nest has a blanket, a V-neck sweater, 4 throw pillows, my glasses, tissues, a yellowing coverless water-damaged mass-market copy of Moby Dick, the new Aperture, the NYT Sunday crossword, a pen, and several weeks of the New Yorker within arm's reach.

When I can't sleep at night because I can't breathe lying down and my sinuses feel like hard little rocks, I make a mug of hot cinnamon apple spice tea and prop myself up in the nest. I read a couple chapters of Moby Dick and before long I'm snoozin'. Though it's lively and often comic, there is something soporific about that book!