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Where do I start? Well, as you may have noticed, I don’t have a lot of patience for stories in which women are rescued by men. I can take care of myself, thank you very much.

That said, I sometimes wish I were Sleeping Beauty, lost in the land of sleep. Ah, the joy of being able to sleep as long as I want. No Prince Charming. Just send him back where he came from please. I just want to sleep.

You see, sleep is now a rare luxury, because there is always something happening: a child to pick up, a vomiting teenager, a deadline to be met, a train or a plane to catch, and as a result I have to sleep less. And I don’t like it, but I have to make do. Don’t we all? I don’t have a choice anyway.

To cut a long story short, most days I wish I had been able to sleep a bit longer. That said, I can’t complain as last weekend, we were able to sleep an additional hour. A whole hour, can you believe it?

This is because the clock went backwards. And although I’m not the only one to get a little confused by the clocks changing, I think we should do it every day. I am less pleased about the fact that we will wake up in the dark and come back home in the dark, but hey, an additional hour of sleep is not to be sniffed at. So I took it. With gusto, if you must know.

 

La_Belle_au_Bois_Dormant_-_Sixth_of_six_engravings_by_Gustave_Doré

I have reached a stage in my life where I think I would choose a good bed over a good man. Especially as it’s now easier than ever to shop for furniture online. I do enjoy spending a few hours window-shopping for the latest designs, and with the likes of Bedstar, IKEA and John Lewis which have a nice user-friendly website. It takes a lot of the pain out of shopping so that we can focus on other things, such as sleep! But now that it’s half term, it’s even worse as everybody is on holidays except me (I have to work, cook, clean and take care of everybody else. When is my half-term?).

Come to think of it, my story is all too common. It’s the story of most women. We crave sleep. I once had a boss who, because I happen to be French, used to patronise me and loved telling me ‘It’s not the amount of time you lie down, Muriel, it’s the amount of time you sleep!’.

As if! Try having kids, a job, a life in London, and you will understand my pain. Seriously, where does he think I would find the energy? Next time I’ll pretend I am from Quebec. Lesson learned. I took one for the (French) team. Again.

So today I will share a little secret with you. Do you know what an act of true love would be? Let. Me. Sleep. For. Once.

That would be the real fairytale.