That night again

This old Furlong has some God awful nights.

Last night was a ‘could not settle and ‘fighting the duvet’ one.

Could not settle involves removing a hair from the lip, adjusting for a cold ‘leak’ of air at back of neck, feeling another hair on eyelashes, a feather on the cheek, repairing the new leak of cold at back of neck, sneezing, suddenly feeling an itch on the shoulder that entails sitting up to scratch.

Settling again. Groundhog Day.

At last after finding hairs, finding air leaks and itches, sleep comes.

The night battle begins.

The duvet is puffy, heavy and annoying. It makes crunching noises as the feathers move around in it. It’s filled with the remains of what used to be living creatures come to life and cloying at me. It’s supposed to be warm, but it is HOT and noisy. The only time it looks good and luxurious is when the bed is made. It invites you to climb in on a cold winter night.

No more will I succumb to its lies.

It’s a trap.

Today I shall roll it up, securely bound with elastic straps so it cannot escape, and store it at the bottom of the linen cupboard.

Getting comfortable

Some days settling down for bed is easy peasy. I simply jump into my bed pull the covers over my head, adjust my position hugging my huggy pillow and I’m asleep.

But now and again I hit a bad night. I cannot seem to get comfortable. It goes like this.

There is something tickling my nose, so I have to scratch that. I just settle again, but I can feel a hair across my eyelashes, so I have to find it and remove it. I just settle after having done both those things, and I have an itch at the back of my knee, which needs scratching. That means I have got to sort out the huggy pillow, which has moved position and is now not comfortable.

So I start again – I pull thecovers over my head, adjust my position hugging my huggy pillow, and find the head pillow has moved and is not tucked into my neck. So I adjust. Something is tickling my nose, a hair? I have to find it. Now the thickness of the duvet is blocking my breathing, or rather, I can feel my breath being reflected back at me. I hate that. So I adjust the covers.

That moves the huggy pillow, or it has fallen out of bed.

As soon as I think I am comfortable, my wrist aches, or my shoulder feels wrong, so I ajust. Sleep might come.

But no! I seem to have that damn hair stuck on my lip. I have to find it. Light on, sit up. Search. Found it!

I lie down again, turn off the lamp, pull covers over my head, adjust my position hugging my huggy pillow and get ready to asleep.

But

there is something tickling my nose, so I have to scratch that. I just settle again, but I can feel a hair across my eyelashes again, so I have to find it and remove it. I just settle after having done both those things, and I have an itch at the back of my elbow, that needs scratching. Now I have got to sort out the huggy pillow, which has moved position and is not comfortable. Or missing.

The huggy pillow often leaps of of bed and lands on the floor, where it hides in the dark until I sit up, turn on the bedside lamp and look for it. It has a silk cover which is deliciously delightful to hug, but somewhat slithery.

I try again having retrieved huggy pillow, pull the covers over my head, adjust my position hugging my huggy pillow again and wait for sleep.

Repeat.

Repeat

Repeat.

We are wise to each have our own bedrooms to avoid divorce,

or

murder.

Mr Furlong has no idea of the night activity he is missing. Mr Furlong always falls asleep in an instant, immediately, forthwith, on demand, tout suite. He has no idea how lucky he is.

Wiley dog

The Furlongs had a cat once that realised if it crashed out of the cat flap, it chased the birds away. So it learned to carefully open it, quietly, and then gently support it with it’s tail so that the flap closed almost silently.

Animals aren’t stupid.

Now and again, Mr Furlong and I have to sleep together, like now, half term, when the grandchildren stay.

Bass, the clever dog, never ever, ever gets on our beds at night. He never tries to. He has his own bed.

Except when we are sleeping in the same bed.

The interesting fact is that Bass is a sort of clumpy dog. He’s heavy. He lands after a jump like a ton of bricks.

Except when we are sleeping in the same bed.

During the night, this not dainty dog, becomes light as a feather. He tip toes onto the bed. He somehow ends up between us like a heavy rock. Furthermore, he won’t be budged and sticks to the bed like a limpet.

He knows dogs in this house don’t sleep on our beds at night. Yet he claims a place without us even knowing.

Silently, lightly, in the night.

It’s always a surprise.

Do you have a Smart Meter? Well don’t.

I recently did a blog on Smart Meters on ‘ Life on an Alien Planet’, my serious blog. Blog

Restless legs and doggie dreaming

I actually slept last night! No blogs in the night again. Not from exhaustion, but from sleeping.