Those among you who have experienced it will know batching is a time to be treasured. A time to recharge the batteries and be in top-notch form for the return of your beloved.
Now, in my younger days I don't mind admitting a period alone meant the pub for a beer or two or five, late nights watching movies that didn't involve romance and gushiness and generally leaving the house in a state of complete and utter chaos until 30 minutes before She Who Must Be Obeyed arrived home.
Sleep was for the weak.
But then as I got older I morphed into a semi-sensible character who missed her daily, if not hourly, forwent the rowdy pub all-nighter for a quiet couple of craft beers with a mate and then went home and watched a movie that I'd heard nothing about but knew it would be good because it had the likes of Tom Hanks or Meryl Streep in it. That sort of thing.
Then I'd crawl into the sack for an appropriate amount of slumber.
Naturally the house would remain in chaos till half a hour before she got home. I am still a bloke after all.
So now fast forward to the present day.
Mrs P has gone away and it's just me and George The Dog in our little, low maintenance house.
I haven't been to the pub in ages. The golf club after a bit of Sunday exercise does just fine thank you very much. And it's quieter.
Back home on the telly Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep are still making movies – thank goodness. There's nothing else on is there?
And, for medical reasons, we've just got one of those electric beds with independent remote control so you can adjust your side up and down or however you want it. It has things like lumbar support for your back and a massage function. Though why anyone should find that useful is beyond me. It literally rattles your fillings.
It also has a rather pleasant sleep-inducing zero gravity position which apparently is the same as the astronauts feel when they go into space. Which is kind of disconcerting when you think about it. I mean do we want them drifting off when they are flying a highly explosive tin can over our heads? I think not.
Anyway.
So I'm on my own and finally it's time to hit the hay.
I clamber up onto my side of the new bed and George, figuring there's a spare spot with mum away, jumps up onto the other side.
As he does so he lands on the remote control lying there and the bed begins to move.
Initially he's startled. Sitting upright. Ears pricked up. That sort of stuff.
But then he begins to enjoy it.
I don't know what button he landed on when he jumped up but before I know it he is stretched out with some (obviously) pleasant elevation to his feet and a moderate elevation at the head end. It doesn't take him long to fall asleep.
Now bear in mind here he's jumped up and plonked himself right over the remote. He's actually sleeping on it. So, through the night every time he moves he manages to activate another function.
I'm not sure he got to the astronaut position but through the night I definitely heard the massage function go off.
When I finally awoke he was still there. He seemed to be in the perfect position for deep sleep. I presume he mastered the remote somewhere in the wee small hours.
I've got to go out today so he'll be on his own for a couple of hours. It will be interesting to see if he handles the television remote on the couch with the same skill.
I guess I'll know if I walk through the door on my return and there's a movie on with Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep in it.
• Kevin Page is a teller of tall tales with a firm belief too much serious news gives you frown lines. Feel free to share stories to editor@northernadvocate.co.nz (Kevin Page in subject field).
