In my years as a singleton I had no-one to keep odd nocturnal behaviours in check so they flourished. I’m a poor sleeper and it used to bother me until somewhere along the line I reached a state of acceptance and embraced those extra wakeful moments. Sleeping alone was a joy! My bed became a hive of activity. I eschewed the advice of sleep hygiene experts who say that it should only be a place for sleep and sex. Instead I read, wrote, did the Guardian Quick crossword, listened to YouTube talks, meditated…..I’ve even tried my hand at a bit of crafting but a bedful of beads isn’t much fun.
When I first met Hot Stuff all those night-time shenanigans came to a halt. Instead I lay in a wakeful, fretful state trying not to disturb that geezer who’d taken to sharing my bed. But invariably he stirred because I got fidgety and frustrated from lying awake doing nothing. Then he’d get fractious himself.
Plus we both snore like trains. While I’ll admit this readily Hot Stuff denied it until I tagged the video evidence on Facebook. During his period without a partner he’d developed his own habits too. He likes to have music on while he sleeps. It helps him cope with his tinnitus. I’m a patient person but sod that for a game of soldiers. Hot Stuff also insists on sleeping with the door ajar. Doesn’t he know that he’s opening himself up to attack from all those ghoulies and ghosties that go bump in the night?
So most of the time we spend night times separately much to the envy of most of my married friends. Hurrah! Sleeping alone has put pay to many of our tiff. I’ll wake up, perhaps at 2am, and joyfully get through a chapter or two or my latest novel, rustle up a blog post, do a bit of studying or listen to something edifying, If I nip out to the loo I can hear the dulcet snorting and snuffling from the open doorway of the room next door over a soundtrack of The Stereophonics. I leave him to it until the morning when we cosy up together with the first cup of tea of the day.