JP had a meeting in Switzerland late yesterday and then slept at the home of some friends . He wasn't too thrilled by the idea, which mystified me. . . and he was mystified by my mystification.

"I like to sleep at home in my own bed. Is that so strange?"

Well, maybe not if you put it that way. But if someone offered to make me dinner and then, on top of that, give me a whole bed to myself, I'd be thrilled.

I typically spend the night perched on the edge of our small bed. I often dream that I'm falling off a cliff or being pushed out a window, which is not really conducive to a restful night of sleep.

To be fair, it's not JP that's the problem. If it was just us, we'd be fine. Cozy, maybe - but cozy is nice. The problem is our two cats. Though I've bought them specially made cushions from the pet shop labelled "cat bed", they seem to like our bed much better. And our room is up in the attic, so there's no door to shut them out. They sprawl in the center of the bed, pushing JP and I off to our respective edges.

And we can't get too mean when we try to shove them off as Mr. D, in particular, would have no qualms about taking his revenge. And I really don't fancy awaking up to a cat peeing on me, so we're pretty circumspect.

Last night, though, there really was a hope of me having the whole bed to myself. That afternoon, I'd had to take the cats to the vet. I'd shoved them in their respective cases (or "Boxes of Satan" in cat-talk) and took them to get their vaccinations updated. By the time we got home, neither of them were "speaking" to me. And that was fine. It had all been for their own good and, with any luck, they'd avoid me for at least another 12 hours- long enough for me to have the bed all to myself.

It worked just as I had hoped. They slept elsewhere and I had a peaceful night on my own, with no dreams of falling. Bliss!