He keeps the equipment tucked under his mattress where someone else might keep their Hustlers and Playboys (those, he keeps in plain sight, and he's not subtle about what he explores on the computer, either).
He pulls the hook and cotton from their hiding place. He's also fairly sure Pepper and JARVIS are conspiring against him, or Pepper's figured out how to reprogram the AI, or something, because he's actually been locked out of his own damn lab. Which -- what the hell with that?
Yarn twists around his fingers without thought, a quick moment's scan to remember where he was in the pattern before the hook flashes in and out of the loops.
They've no right. Even if he was tired enough to be dropping things. He's worked longer when he was a hell of a lot more exhausted. And injured.
He leans back against the headboard. So maybe it's not the work he'd rather be doing, but his mind can chew on things while his fingers engage.
Besides, the rhythm of in-and-out is almost soothing, and close enough to sleep.