Getting Out of Bed

It’s never really ‘getting out’ of bed, more of a skulk out of a pit. A warm, cosy, loves-always pit.

It begins with an alarm. Not a loud one. Calm, soothing sounds of fountains three minutes before the actual, wretched beeping begins—a warning of lateness and laziness. The gentle trickle of water is nice to hear, helps a good mood, for the whole of three minutes before the actual alarm.


With a heavy huff and an eye-roll, the importance of the day ahead is debated. A slow roll to reach the alarm, an arm sacrificed to save the rest of the body from the morning chill. Partner complains at the alarm’s volume and because the rolling motion has also taken the majority of the duvet, leaving a freezing and bare arse.

The devilish phone alarm is in reach. Shut it up with a firm tap then roll back into the duvet cave.

Now for the ‘social’ aspect of the morning. A phone check is attempted—retinas quickly burned from the screen’s brightness. The same as every. Single. Morning. Brightness turned right down, the ‘social’ requirements can begin. Facebook—no messages and nothing of importance, same as ever. Next up, emails. Gmail and Hotmail, despite never handing out either of the addresses post-13th birthday, must still check regardless. Maybe another Viagra email from America wants to take up unimportant space. Finally, university emails in the hopes of a cancelled lecture.

No such luck. Darn it!

The phone is put away; once again, contemplating the importance of the day ahead begins. The telepathic partner hears and nudges for cuddles in an attempt to stay in bed longer. This is allowed, the best option for the day is to waste it lounging in bed. No lecture is worth the wind, rain, cold or daylight. Snuggle closer, steal more of the duvet. Enjoy the peace and calm.

Start to fall back asleep, convinced by cuddles.

The silence lasts mere minutes before another run of water begins. The four-year-old is awake and having a wee. The toilet seat falls. Awake again. In bounds a beautiful but annoying and stupendously loud child who hops into the bed, steals all the duvet and pushes everyone else out.

Sit on the floor. Cry a little. Begin the day.

Paige Beresford


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