After reading , I vowed that I would take a trip to my room every few months, and these have been some of the happiest days I've spent. It's an incredible luxury to be home and not sick, to wake up with no agenda other than to wander around the apartment all day. I can lie on the sofa and look at the light as it plays across the glass table. Or see the way it catches on a cracked ceramic vase. I can play with the shells I've brought back from the beach. I can admire our hearty little African violet. And I can visit my books, flipping through this one and then that to light on a passage. This only works if I remain totally unplugged. The rules for such a day are simple--no electronics at all (except for music). I'm finding that on a slow, lazy day, when I'm a traveler in my own home, just about anything I touch is new to me, as I see it differently than I have before, but each object also brings back memories, as I recall how I came to have it.