I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I have some seriously slothful tendencies. If I thought I’d get anything done, I’d install a hammock in my office. My point is I like lounging around. A stack of books on my night table, a lap desk and a laptop nearby, and some Mad Men episodes on the DVR and I could stay in bed for days. There’s something about the relaxed state you find yourself in when propped up against a bunch of pillows that allows for a certain type of creativity—assuming, of course, that you can stay awake.
This fun piece by Meg Wolitzer reminded me that the bed can be as creative a hub as the dining table or the library. It also got me thinking about literary goings-on in beds (usually sex and death, but not always). What are your favorite bedroom scenes in literature?