I have a confession to make. When Husband said that he was concerned about a friend I too was concerned and wanted him to be able to do appropriate good friend duties and visit him. But a selfish part of me also jumped for joy at the prospect of Husband being away for the night. Not for anything nefarious. I really don’t have the energy for anything like that. But rather for the chance to have the bed to myself. It’s a rare luxury to be able to indulge in nocturnal space and duvet cocooning.
Usually not only do I share the bed with Husband, but also the cat and usually with an addition of a small human from some point in the early hours. And why is it small children always sleep horizontally across any bed, regardless of original orientation? It’s not a great set-up.
Because I’m the one who tends to the nocturnal needs of younger family members and therefore spend a good part of my night playing Musical Beds, I swear Husband and the cat have made a pact when it comes to matters of the duvet. In my absence the cat anchors herself firmly to the midpoint of my side of the bed. To move her is to risk attack to the toes. So instead I s-bend around her like a Tetris block, guaranteeing my spine and my legs hate me in the morning. Meanwhile Husband performs an act of duvet redistribution (without disturbing the cat – see, it IS a pact!). He winches the duvet around himself, cocooning himself in warmth, leaving me with the very edge of the sheet, which is usually bereft of duvet filling.
Our home is cold. I hate being cold. Toastie is the temperature of choice for me, so the situation disgruntles me on a nightly basis. Not only is Husband’s sleep less disturbed than mine, but also more comfortable. It’s enough to have me craving a bed of my own.
There’s an article from The Guardian published last year that I keep next to the bed. It certainly struck a chord when I read it. ‘Is it time for separate beds for the sake of a good night’s sleep?’ The answer, if you want physical, mental and emotional well-being, is a resounding ‘YES!’ Poor sleep can increase the risk of depression, stroke, heart disease and respiratory failure. And if that wasn’t enough to have you reaching for the Nytol, a 2005 study showed that women were a third more likely to put on at least 33lbs more than her rested counterparts. And there I was thinking it was over-eating and a lack of exercise that were responsible for my wobbly bum. Never before have I wanted to be Sleeping Beauty so much.
So separate beds could make me happier, healthier and skinnier? It’s enough to have me swapping the king-size divan for two singles quicker than you can say ‘Ikea’.
Except, even better, could I have separate rooms too? When I read Fifty Shades of Grey I wasn’t so much enamoured with the idea of the Red Room of Pain, but rather with Anna having her own room in Christian’s luxury apartment where he promises she’ll be completely undisturbed. Oh, yes, yes, YES!
In the States separate beds are becoming increasingly popular. By next year 60% of new builds are expected to feature dual master bedrooms. Would emigration be an extreme step to take for some decent kip? Especially if a change of a change of timezones realigned Noodles’ body clock to more appropriate waking hours. I can only imagined being bothered by neither Husband nor child. Where are our passports?
Or maybe I should take the advice given to an equally sleep-deprived friend by her 5-year-old daughter. Driving past a Premier Inn the little girl pipes up ‘Oh, Mummy, you should go there – they guarantee a good night’s sleep!’ Sadly I don’t think the guarantee covers disturbances from
partners or children.
For tonight though I shall kick the cat out, hope I’ve done enough to exhaust Noodles (aka the Duracell Bunny) and try to appreciate every inch of the bed. I do hope Husband’s friend is ok. But I also hope I get my best night’s sleep for many a month.