Please get off my bed

Happiness is…. not sharing a bed!

We had relatives over the last two nights. In other words, I had to share my bed with my cousin. Not for one night, TWO nights.

Now, I can be very fussy about ‘my space’. In queues, I hate when people stand so close to me, so close that I can feel their various body parts. No ma’am, it’s not okay for you to be this close to me even though you’re a woman. And no, I don’t want to be harassed by your boobs.

Same with MY bed. I’m not a sleep-fighter (read: a person who kicks around in his sleep). I often wake up with a numb arm or leg from sleeping too long in one position.

Life was good when I got my single bed replaced with this ‘princessy’ queen-sized bed. What I didn’t realise till two days ago is that…. I’d be expected to share my bed with sleep-fighter cousins. Not cool.

Okay, I lied. I'm not that tall.

Okay, I lied. I’m not that tall.

My bed is MY bed. It’s what I miss most when I force myself to get off it every morning. It’s what I run back to, when I get back home.

I love my bed so much, that I’m starting to tear up as I type this. Though, that’s probably from no sleep and all the bruises my cousin gave me last night.

True story

And now I’m all sleepy and grumpy. And I’ve got work tomorrow.
Early night for me tonight, while I fall asleep to my favourite new discovery, The Bed and… I mean, The Head and the Heart’s Another Story.

Have a good weekend, rest-of-the-world!

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