I had a nice quiet night in last night (trust me, after all that went on Friday night, I NEEDED the chance to recover) and it was great. I watched "X-Factor", finished off a book and read a second, made a start on my online Christmas shopping (can I just say that this website is fab if you're looking for some cool but reasonably priced jewellery for someone?) and basically just chilled out. It was great. Anyway, it got to about half past midnight and I was idly considering going to bed early(ish) when my phone started ringing. It was my sister to say she was out and could she come and crash at mine.
Despite the fact she was meant to be in Great Western Road at the time of the original phone call, which isn't very far from my flatshare, it took her about another hour to arrive. (Good thing I hadn't been all that serious about the early night thing). As she was full of booze, she passed out fairly quickly and I was sober (I know, for a change!) so it took me a while to get to sleep.
For some reason, my sister is the only person I can share a bed with easily. I'm not sure if it's because we've had to do it so often as kids on holiday etc and because I don't feel bad about tossing and turning, or stealing the blanket back if she hogs it or whatever. As I was lying there, I was thinking about the fact that I have lived here for over five years and actually have had to share a bed with quite a few people.
In the time of me using this bed, I'd shared it with three different guys (two of which started entirely platonically - or so I thought anyway) and several female friends too. My friend C used to stay over on many occasions in the early days of me living here - that was before she had a kid she had to get home to though. My friend M from uni stayed here a couple of weekends to escape her family. One time me, my sis and C ALL shared the bed - which was one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life as it's only a queen sized bed and i was squashed between the two of them and didn't have enough space to even lie flat on my back.
I've also had the "we have to talk" conversation on this bed (fully dressed, obviously), more than once. When you don't have a lot of furniture to sit on in your room, I suppose that's inevitable though. Anyway, I try not to think of those moments. They just make me feel like crap.
I guess perhaps ultimately it's not just a bed thing. Maybe it's a flat thing. I feel like since I moved into this flatshare, so much has happened to me. Some things good, some things bad, some things I never expected in a million years might happen to me. It's been an adventure, that's for sure.
Perhaps that's why I'll have been here five and a half years in January and yet I'm reluctant to move on . . .