Whether we're six or sixty, walk-up or penthouse, we
all crave comfort at times, and nothing soothes like a story. Tonight, when
you're all tuckered out from the Cure,
instead of counting sheep (or threads!), try reading a bedtime story. Better
yet, try reading somebody
Here's one of my favorites:
In the narrow, crooked
street, among several shabby dwellings, stood a very tall and very narrow
house, the framework of which had given so that it was out of joint in every
direction. Only poor people lived here, and poorest of all were those who
lived in the attic. Outside the small attic window an old, bent bird cage
hung in the sunshine; it didn't even have a real bird glass, but had only
a bottle neck, upside down, with a cork in its mouth, and filled with water.
--Hans Christian Andersen,
Bottle Neck (Flaskehalsen), trans. Jean Hersholt
the rest of the story...