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 else one.
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, The Bottle Neck (Flaskehalsen), trans. Jean Hersholt