The Duvet and Other Perils

7 Jan

There is nothing worse than the feeling on a cold, dark morning when the rain smacks against the window with alarming force, and the wind throws the trees like matchsticks in a storm. Actually, this is a great big lie. The only thing worse than one of these mornings is the punctuating noise of the alarm clock, calling you from your slumber and forcing you to actually get up and face the storm. Regardless of how chirpy the sound is, whether you have your favourite song set to wake you from your dreams of if you favour the clinical beep of a shrill alarm sound, it’s the worst thing that can possibly happen to you in your entire life.

And why is it that on these days your duvet feels like a cloud and your pillow feels like little sheep, carefully positioned under your head to make sure that sleep is effortless and dreams flow freely?  It is never one of those mornings where you have had a troubled sleep, and woken hours before the alarm rings, staring at the ceiling and passing the time till the morn.

This week had one of those mornings. The previous night, i struggled to sleep, disturbed by every tiny little noise that a house makes in the deep of the night. The wind whistled, the house creaked and I watched the minutes click past on the clock, anxious for my demeanour the next day if i was to work on little sleep. And then the alarm went off, seeming mere minutes after I had settled. I snoozed it, and went back to sleep, convinced in the notion that it was indeed Saturday. The kitten came in, uncommonly loving and snuggled on my chest, and the alarm punctured my contentment again. Christ, it was Wednesday. Not even Friday, so i could pass it off as looking forward to my lie in tomorrow, but smack-in-the-middle-of-the-week Wednesday.

So if you saw me that day, bare faced and looking like a bird has taken residence in my hair, please do not judge. I simply had to snooze the alarm for five more minutes.

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