WEIGHTED BLANKET

Well it’s the middle of the night again. That is if by middle, I mean two hours before we’re supposed to get up and six hours after we went to bed. Kind of two-thirds through the night.

Don’t worry. I’ve not spilled water on the duvet this time. I’m just awake for no apparent reason at all, other than some latent worry or trouble I can’t put my finger on - the usual story really.

The unsettling adventure is really getting to us now. We’ve had crossed wires and miscommunications, It’s led to an exhausting cycle of disappointment, quick problem-solving, priority planning, and resolution, which all seems like such hard work. I almost don’t want to ask my married friends how long that cycle lasts because I’m afraid of the answer. So for now I’m quite happy to chalk it up to living out of a suitcase for six weeks.

The estate agent called yesterday morning. This one is always chirpy and pally, even when he’s spinning bad news. I like to imagine him at home, promising his wife a new a carpet and trying to convince her that waiting another two weeks is a good thing, after three months. These guys have a mastery with words the rest of us can only gawp at.

Meanwhile the solicitors have a unique way of letting you feel a bit simple - for not having a law degree, or in fact, any notion of conveyancing at all. I have to phone them later and be pushy, which is not exactly a word anyone would use about me.

Anyway. I’m awake and feeling the weight of it all, like a blanket pinning me to the bed. My brain can’t triangulate a word between the fixed points of ‘stressed’, ‘blessed’, ‘afraid’ and ‘thankful’ but I’m in there somewhere. Next to me is my wife, asleep, turning softly, and dreaming of being us in our own home. I feel as though I would do anything, anything at all, to make sure she’s always as safe and as happy as she is in those sweet dreams.

Perhaps that’s the ‘hidden’ reason I’m awake? I’m carrying her somehow through this, in a way she doesn’t know, with my eyes wide open in the dark watches of the night? Do all guys feel like this? Does it get heavier and sweeter with children? Is it just life, or are things unusually hard because of our houselessness?

I do hope it won’t be long.