Night Anchor

Stumped out of that fleece slipper as the house went dark and quiet, ready to set up a proper night post. Over near the bookshelf corner, a heavy, leather-bound hardback book was lying flat on the oak boards. Perfect sturdy fortress. I squared my stance, dropped down against the thick paper edge, and shoved with both palms to wedge a forgotten wooden pencil right underneath the binding. Kept it propped at an honest tilt. Then I sat down on the smooth hardwood, leaned my back flat against the warm embossed leather cover, and crossed my arms over my chest. Ha! Dry indoor timber, zero drafts, and the perimeter is secured for the night.