Never mind the quality feel the width

It's a quarter past eleven at night and I'm ready to go to bed. This is not normal for me. Normal for me is one in the morning but I just can't keep my eyes open. I think it's the disturbed sleep over the weekend. Four nights of sleeping in beds (or horizontal coach seats) that are only two foot six inches wide (that's about eighty centimetres to you metric types) has not been good. It isn't that the beds are too narrow (although they are) it's that I have nowhere to put my arms. I like to sleep with my knees bent but my arms stretched out - a cross between a foetus and a yearner in the following diagram:



and narrow beds mean my hands hang off the edge - and I don't like my hands to be ahanging! It isn't that I'm afraid of the monster under the bed (we came to an agreement many years ago, I won't push him out into the cold daylight providing he doesn't attack me - it works well enough) I just don't like the dead feeling I get when my hands aren't supported. Luckily I have a wide bed here (a queen sized one - no comments please) and I don't have to share it. So now I'm going to get into it and fling my arms about as much as I please.

Good night and sleep well my lovelies.