"Spenser: "The foxes have holes and the birds of the air have nests. The son of man hath not where to lay his head." I couldn't remember if it was from Luke or John, but it looked like I'd just joined a very exclusive club. It was Matthew, and reading the rest of the chapter before I fell asleep helped me get over the feeling I had when I watched almost everything I own go up in smoke. I tried to drown the rest of my thoughts in beer; that never really works. And the alcohol in my blood didn't make an August night in Boston any cooler"