That does mean getting out of my chair and going upstairs to where my copious library resides. A trip that passes dangerously close to the kettle, will put me in sight of the piano and once upstairs, apart from on the way recognising the potential for the stair carpet to rise up and complain of neglect, I shall see the overflowing washing basket beckon.
One of the myriad daily dilemmas I face. I'm so glad it isn't a matter of life and death. And they say you should write what you know. What? Is that you snoring?