When nothing works for you except fat bites off a good chunky novel. The ultimate, most delectable comfort food, something you must usually eat in restrained quantities, since you know you need nutrition other than chocolate and get only so many hours a week to fill up the tanker. In an emergency, you need it to prop up the body against the pillow, so you have nothing to do except turn the pages.
Boondoggling at the moment with The Cat Who Sang for the Birds. The satisfaction of a lazy read.