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18/08/2011 / melgardener

The case of the sleepless night

Recently, I’ve been travelling quite a lot for work. Mostly it’s been overnight stays which I love because I’m not away from my family too much, but I gain much-needed “me” time with virtually no guilt attached.

I love the solitude of my hotel room and admit that I don’t often feel too much need to get ‘out and about’ in whichever city I happen to be in. I’ll read or take a bath or watch TV…or, sometimes, just sit and stare at the wall (enjoying the silence).

Last week I was in Hobart and my evening was shaping up well. I’d been to my function and the presentation went well. It finished on time and most attendees headed off home at the conclusion meaning I was back at my hotel by 7.30pm with the whole evening stretched in front of me.

There was no dinner to be made (hello…room service) and no dishes or food to be cleaned up afterwards. No one needed a bath or a shower (except me). I wasn’t responsible for brushing anyone’s teeth or hair (again, except mine), there were no bedtime stories to be read, no one to tuck in, no last minute drinks of water to be fetched or trips to the toilet.

In the morning, I can wake up in my own time, rather than when a little person decides to push their face close to mine and scream (at a decibel representative of a 747 taking off), “Wake up, Mum!”. There is no breakfast to be made (again, hello room service) and no lunches to be made. No
school bags to be packed or last-minute excursion notes to be completed.

I normally find that I sleep well when away from home:  the combination of a relaxing evening and the knowledge that there won’t be any middle-of-the-night visitors to my bed generally means I’m in for a good eight hours of snooze time.

But, for some reason, this evening it just wasn’t happening for me.

Room service lost my dinner order so it was half an hour late in arriving. There was nothing good on TV to watch (I flicked and flicked but no luck). I tried reading my book but I just couldn’t get into it. The pillows on the bed were too soft and I couldn’t get comfortable. I tossed and
turned all night with my mind racing; when I did eventually fall asleep I had bad dream after bad dream.

You’d think this would be enough to put me off travelling for work again for a while (and I do now have a bit of a break) but I’d only been home a few hours before the idea of a quiet hotel room began to look attractive once again.

Do you love or loathe travelling for work? Do you love or loathe hotel rooms? What’s been your experience?


One Comment

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  1. hotshot bald cop / Aug 30 2011 4:49 pm

    Interesting views on that!

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