My Bed

If I ever have to nominate my favourite place I always say my bed.  Bed is a refuge.  A place where I feel secure. A retreat from the world where I can be alone with my thoughts.  A reward at the end of the day.

When I lie down my body intuitively knows where to settle, the groove worn into it that fits my body perfectly (despite frequent flips and turns of the mattress). The bed linen is washed to the perfect level of softness.  The pillows are plentiful and the right height and density.

I miss my bed more than anything else.

Seven weeks ago our house was packed up and my lovely comfy bed was put into a container and shipped to the equator.  We had spent a great deal of time organising an ‘easy’ transition – only 2 days in a hotel before we could move into our rental property here and only 3 weeks without our things.  Without my bed.

Seven weeks from that date and we are still in temporary accommodation.  Seven weeks and eight different beds.

One bed was so soft that I sunk into it and found it impossible to roll over so I slept on the lounge.

The next bed was just bad. So bad it sent my back into spasm and I spent a good part of my first fortnight in Singapore hobbling.  Every step I took sent stabbing pains down my right leg.  This place also allocated one pillow per person so my lifelong habit of cuddling a pillow as I slept was curbed until I bought another.

The one I’m in now is Ok, although someone must’ve taken an axe to the bottom as it’s 6 inches shorter than normal. (It’s Asian bed size).

Others weren’t memorable, but weren’t great either.  Sheets were over-starched and felt like I was lying under a tablecloth. Quilts were too hot and yet there was no top sheet to provide a happy medium.

In others the bed was OK but other bedroom stuff I take for granted was missing.  Some didn’t have bedside lamps, only 2 have had clocks. In one, I was lulled to sleep by the soothing sounds from the air-conditioning turbines on top of the building next door.

With all the different bedroom arrangements I’m truly surprised that on my many trips to the bathroom during the night I haven’t tried to pee in the wardrobe.

I never thought I’d be wistful for my bed, but I am.

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5 thoughts on “My Bed

  1. As someone who has spent a lot of time fussing over the perfect bed and bedroom furniture, I am terrified of having to choose whether to leave it behind or somehow fit it all in to a smaller bedroom.

    I feel your pain and hope it is sorted out soon.

  2. I am exactly the same about my bed! Being in your situation would drive me nuts… hope you get something soon, it’s crazy how long you’ve been over there without them finding you a house.

  3. I’m of an age where a trip to the bathroom during the night is a pretty regular event, so I relate to your penultimate paragraph. Even assuming you find your way there without walking into the corner of something, you find yourself sitting there in the dark groping for the toilet roll – left, right, in front or way behind me? Hope you get settled soon!

  4. I too love my bed – it’s my favourite place in the world! My OH calls it ‘my burrow’ because I have created the perfect little world for me!
    There is nothing more indulgent than hoping into bed in the middle of the day with a good book. Fingers crossed that you get sorted soon!

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