Out For The Couch

I’ve spent quite a decent portion of today – when I say decent, I mean obscene – asleep.

After my pre-run banishment to the couch last night, I am absolutely knackered. The couch was not a forgiving bed, last night. It chose to abuse me in every way it possibly could. It made itself the least comfortable thing on the planet. It didn’t allow me to get a pillow in anything like a decent position. The arms of the thing were like bricks. No matter how I tried I couldn’t get the duvet straight.

There were a number of issues. Which is why I spent the majority of the night awake, in couch-shunning solitude.

So I’ve slept a lot today.

When Carole got up and began her pre-run prep of panic, repeated wees and making more noise that a one-man-band on a trampoline, I retreated to the bed – aaaaahhh – and enjoyed the comfort that only a mattress can bring.

Didn’t sleep, though. Because that would be too easy.

I sort of lay there, listening to the sounds of a woman filled with nervous energy moving things around the house for no apparent reason. Then she left. Then she came back again, having had an identification mishap with her trainers (I kid you not). And then she left again.

And I slept the morning away. I got up at a time which would make a teenager jealous.

And I have generally chilled around the house, doing nothing more strenuous than lifting drinks to my mouth.

I lay on the couch this afternoon to watch some TV.

Three hours of my life vanished in a blink. Admittedly, a very long blink.

I don’t get it, though. If anything I was less prepared for sleep on the couch that I was last night. No pillow. Just me, lying with my head on an arm-rest.

Out like a light. I remember nothing on what I was watching. I know it’s all gone in, subconsciously. It’s probably filed next to that episode of “My Dad Wrote A Porno” that I started and then, next thing I know, it’s a different episode that I’d already heard because, apparently, I feel asleep then.

I don’t understand how the couch works.

Other than the fact that I’m starting to form the opinion that it is in some way evil. It will steal your time during the day, quite happily. Eyelids become heavy when you don’t want them to. Particularly, I find, if you’re basically waiting for a delivery and don’t want to get into anything too involved.

But when the world around you is dark and you are tired and wish to sleep… nothing. Nada. Zip.

Bloody thing.

Still, at least now the run’s over I’m allowed back into the bedroom. Where I’ll get to spend the night listened to Carole whimper in pain every time she rolls over or moves as all her muscles are seizing up.