The rickety couch protests heartily as she half-falls onto the sagging cushions. They are old and soft and comforting, and she feels sleep stealing over her. **There is nothing like a nap.** Nora's shrieking jolts her out of a pleasant snooze, and she looks at her watch. **Half an hour, gone like that...**
Nora is still wide-eyed and frightened when she drags herself back into the fluorescent-lit kitchen. "Something hit my leg, but Mickey scared it away." She reassures her daughter that it was probably just one of the many denizens of the building's rodent underworld, and teasingly advise that she stop reading those scary novels. **Terrible writing anyway, she's be better off with some real fiction.** She makes a mental note to dig up her copies of Tolkein. Surprisingly refreshed from her all-too-short nap, she stays to help with cleaning.