Two consecutive nights could not be more contrasting; from sleeping like the proverbial log to spending hours laying in the darkness becoming ever more frustrated. From espousing the virtues of an orthopaedic pillow to almost throwing it across the room in a fit of rage.
Perhaps it was the weather, an angry wind trying to force its way through every crack and crevice as though it no longer wanted to be left outside.
Maybe it was just my mind refusing to let go, to shut down for the night, myriad thoughts, fears and expectations all vying for attention.
Perhaps I had simply slept "too well" the night before, my body not used to such uninterrupted slumber, and wasn't as tired as I believed.
It was probably a bit of all three, a cruel combination of circumstance, a perfect storm to rival the weather.
I know which I would prefer.