In which I repeatedly press snooze.
It may be a rarity but I got a bit of a lie in today, and on a school day.
As a result Mrs G kindly suggested we could change the time the alarm goes off, instead of 6.15am we would now be woken at the more sociable 6.30am. How extremely decadent of us. The one nice aspect was not having the normal morning rush, from the time I drag myself from bed I have barely half an hour before I am required to walk out of the door for the commute to work.
Of course this 30 minute rush could be extended if I didn’t have a snooze button, instead when the following tune goes off at 6.15 I start pressing the “Five minute’s more” button:
Continue reading “The struggle of getting up”
In which I close my eyes and sleep a dreamless sleep.
Dreams are not my thing. Not the awake kind of dreams, where I imagine myself winning the Ashes or being Prime Minister, I still have those. I’m talking about the kind you have when you sleep. I know plenty of people who are able to recall their dreams but I never seem to wake feeling like I’ve been on adventure in bed.
It is like I wake as soon as I fall asleep, with no feeling that I have been anything in between. Perchance to dream, that would be something to be. Or not to be ready for what dreams may come because my memories of them have shuffled my my mortal mind.
Yet should I slumber what might I dream of? Let’s start with a door.
Continue reading “Dreaming of doors”
In which I lie on the edge of the bed shivering with cold.
Following on from my amazing bed post (that is a post about beds as opposed to one of the corners) I got some grief from Mrs G because of the amount of space I claimed I needed. Being five months pregnant she is starting to claim to need extra room for her and the baby and that I should give up some of my side.
I have some very strict sleep rules, which I did explain to Mrs G before we first shared a bed and still flush with the early goggles of love she agreed. Then she found out about the “Four Positions” and requested an immediate renegotiation.
I like to sleep in a certain way and these vary from being in a tiny ball to taking up as much room as possible, may I present the Four Forms of Sleep.
Continue reading “Holding onto the duvet”
In which I would like 25 hours sleep a day.
My shoulders are screaming with tightness and longing for a good nights sleep. It has been a while since my eyes stopped crying at my brain and my legs have become unionised and gone on strike, they have become a way to stop the torso from falling over and no longer provide any more service than that. I’m feeling really quite tired.
I’m not a clinical diagnostician (I thought diagnostician was a friend of Porthos, Aramis and the other one) but I’m pretty sure it’s not from over exertion. I would remember doing a triathlon, it’s from the classic lack of sleep. More galling it is nobody’s fault I can’t sleep well. How can I blame someone if there is no sleep thief? Continue reading “Tired and wanting to sleep”
In which I want to stay up late.
Of all the arguments I have with Mrs G (which are not that many) the topic of complaint that crops up most often is going to bed. We have similar tastes in food and TV, we have a set of ethics and morals that are well aligned, we like doing the same things. Get us in the bedroom though late at night and it becomes a battlezone.
The main issue is that my wanting to turn the lights off pre-11pm means that I’m not a night owl like my wife. This is patently nonsense, I’m as much a night owl as the next red-eyed fellow, as my issue with going to sleep is not related to my personal preference for a bedtime but to pure biology.
My morning alarm call is dictated by what time we need to go to work, for us this means leaving the house at 7am, so there is the whole morning routine to complete. I have tried to make it as efficient as possible by preparing the morning coffee the night before, having lunches ready and not caring what I wear and just grabbing anything from the wardrobe. To give myself that little more time I even skip breakfast until I am at my desk so I can have a few more minutes.
It still doesn’t seem enough.
I have managed to get the process down to 35 minutes, and that is both for me and The Feliciraptor to be ready (heaven knows what it will be like if we through another child in the mix). Still I don’t feel like I sleep long enough and all I’m longing for are seven hours. Continue reading “I am a night owl”
In which I try to get comfortable on another mattress but miss my own spot.
Being away always means that you get to come back, well mostly but this isn’t a post about what disasters are likely to befall you whilst you are absent from home. Instead this is a post about what I miss most when I am away from home.
Of course this is easy; I miss my wife and family when I am away from them. Especially as I know this part of my post normally appears on Facebook so will earn me extra points for being all soppy. I’m hoping that the excerpt will end at “them”.
I am always sensitive around sleep, so I will always miss my bed whenever I’m not at home. Actually I can be even more specific than that. It’s not the mattress or bed frame that I pine for, it’s the pillows. The aged pieces of artificial fibres (no feathers due to my asthma) that have separated and reformed, bound together by sweat and skin cells, to fit perfectly to my head. Whenever I go and sleep elsewhere it just isn’t the same.
pillows from my bed
Continue reading “Nothing better than your own bed”
In which I wish life was one long snooze button.
Thanks to the Northerly latitude I live at I don’t have to get up before sunrise (which this morning was at 6:20am), that’s not to say I am not awake at that time. I can still wrap my head in a pillow while Baby G makes noises and pretend that at 6.30am I have had a lie in. Come December that will all change as our closest star won’t make an appearance until gone 8am, by which time I will already be at my desk at work.
Dawn, whenever it may be always arrives in the morning but the only use for A.M. is to be asleep and not wake up. I am not designed to wake up before the sunrise (whenever that is), nor should I be woken by any loud ringing noise or external stimulus. I am a sensitive soul who should be allowed to fall asleep when I am tired and wake up when I’m not.
I’m basically a cat in human form, and would have no issues with being fed and worshiped as a God. Do you hear that Mrs G, I would have no problem at all being worshiped.
Continue reading “Getting up in the morning”
In which I wish to be a bed tester when I grow up.
Apparently I am a sleeping Stradivarius, this is the opinion of Mrs G who is constantly frustrated at my crazy desire to obtain more than seven hours sleep. Given that this would be sixty minutes more a day it would only equate to losing a year and a half of awake time over the next forty years.
As an adult I currently operate on 85% of my preferred sleep time, with the rest of the day spent complaining that I am tired. Sleep and tiredness dominate my life more than any other Sims life based requirement (with the possible exception of bladder).
This weekend we will be able to catch up on some of the lost hours (and I know that Sleep-debt is a myth) but this will be offset by a later bedtime, but this weekend I’ll be able to regress to being a teenager again.
Continue reading “A life in bed”
In which I drift off to a good book, or Life of Pi.
I have four bookcases with 600 books. They range from a history of the bible to Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson via Marx and bridges. From Roald Dahl to Jose Saramago through Hugo and Melville. Like everything else in my life there is an eclectic mix of topics. Also like everything else they are just sitting there collecting dust.
I was once able to set myself a target of reading fifteen books a year, and could achieve that. A combination of plenty of alone time and a comfortable toilet seat meant I could power through a book in a week or so. Now I seem to take an age just to get through a chapter. I love reading, but what can I do to read more?
Continue reading “Read me to sleep”
In which I can’t get no sleep wherever I am.
The most inconvenient part about going on holiday is that often the places you want to go to are so far away. This means that you have to adjust to a completely different time zone which takes, well, and time to get used to. Rather than seeing all the sights of the Far East I am spending my time dozing on the Beach in the Land of Nod.
It affects me quite hard, I have sat wide awake in a hotel room in central Shanghai at 4am thinking about how I should be sleeping, while my body is arguing that it is only twenty past nine at night.
I know that come 8pm China time I would be falling into bed exhausted from a days sight seeing, yet it will be more likely that my messed up body clock will grind to a halt midday as it thinks that I should be tucked up in bed back in England.
Continue reading “Travelogue : The land of Nod”