The bed is supposedly our refuge from the world, a comforting haven in which to truly relax and let the cares of the world melt away but often restful slumber evades us, however, as the bed is also the venue for a heated battle of the sexes; the eternal night-time struggle between male and female for sovereignty of the duvet and possession of the pillows.
Just the other night i muttered sleepily, I'll go and sleep on the windowsill...at least i'll get some bloody room there!
Another night, another drowsy curse at the interruption of my dreams with a growled You think you're a bloody sausage-roll with that duvet!
I get a tiny sliver of cover to keep me warm at night while a certain somebody hogs the remaining 95% and yet finds the nerve to utter complaints about my own sleeping habits...
Apparently (so i'm told by a particularly unreliable source and with no corroborating evidence whatsoever) i spend the hours of darkness snoring like a rhinoceros, rolling about like a wrestless, dribbling walrus and becoming an absolute dead weight, not to mention a duvet-hog to the extent that she suspects i have a secret lover who sleeps on the floor at my bedside which must surely be why i repeatedly haul the duvet over that way.
Domestic disagreements such as these will never have a right or a wrong because neither protagonist is fully awake at the time but i know for a fact that i usually awake more knackered than when i retired the previous evening therefore i will continue to claim the moral high-ground on this regular matrimonial point of dispute.
© Sean Barrett - July 2009