Tag: night

Guest Post: 7 Reasons To Buy A Television Bed

TV beds are a relatively new innovation that combines two of our favourite things; bed and television. With that in mind, it’s quite surprising that no one thought of moulding the two things together before.

Although more popular in the United States, they are an innovation that is quickly taking the bedrooms of the UK by gentle storm. So, without further rambling, here are seven reasons to buy a television bed!

1. Toe Saving Technology! One curse of the allotted television/bed separation is the cold, lost and search mission that you must undertake every night in order to turn the television off. Never before have so many toes fallen stubbed to misplaced bedroom items and unforeseen furniture. Now, thanks to tv beds from the TV Beds Centre, you can simply turn the television off via a soft button next to the bed wherein the television folds sleekly away into the recesses of your bed.

2. No more intrusive wires! Thanks to shelves found within the sides of many television beds, you can now store your Xbox, Playstation and DVD player underneath the bed and out of sight as you never again have to fiddle with all the medusa-esque wires that dominate so many bedrooms.

3. Two For The Price Of One. If you’re moving house, the great news is that you don’t have to worry about buying a television and a bed to go in your room as some television beds come with a television already installed! Not a bad thing to no longer worry about!

4. No more nails! That’s exactly right, if you’re like any regular man who simply cannot fathom the easiest of DIY procedures then you no longer have to worry about IKEA cupboards or television stands.

5. A Man’s ~~Home~~ Bed Is His Castle. If you want to be really lazy, then you will take pride in knowing that you can endure a whole film marathon (LOTR anyone?) without ever having to get out of bed. Anyone who enjoys a good hangover will know that lying in bed all day watching mind numbing programmes is truly the best way to recover.

6. The iBed? If you think the television beds of today are great, then just think about what they shall be like tomorrow. Maybe then they shall look after all our needs (microwave tv bed?) so that we never have to move anywhere on a weekend. The lifestyle in Wall-E never looked that bad anyway…

7. Build a base. We’ve all done it; thanks to the large foot and head boards, they would make perfect walls for you to drape your bedding over. Even if you find that you are a tad old to do that these days, television beds do come in child sizes too!

September 24, 2012
7 Reasons That a Dream Bath is Better Than an Actual Bath

Hello 7 Reasons readers! I have a confession to make. I love baths, but it turns out that for years I’ve been bathing wrong. I know this because this morning I had an epiphany (or should that be a baptism as I’m writing about baths). I woke up, having dreamt that I’d had a bath, and that dream bath was better than an actual bath. Here are seven reasons why.

Fortunately not my bath.

1. It Saved Time. The major problem with taking a bath – and the reason that most people end up settling for showers – is the amount of time it takes. It takes time to fill them up and you tend to spend a lot of time in them. This takes a substantial chunk out of the day. Dream baths, however, are different. You can spend hours in a dream bath and it’ll only take seconds out of your life. That’s time that you would have been using to sleep anyway. It’s like being given the gift of time but there’s no wrapping paper to recycle, which saves further time. It probably makes time.

2. It Was The Right Temperature. My dream bath was the correct temperature, which is approximately halfway between “Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” and “Gah!” Actual baths are always intemperate and usually end up turning that initial cautious toe either red or blue. Or brown, if the bath hasn’t been cleaned.

3. I Was Able To Share It. Sharing an actual bath is seldom the dreamy, romantic pastime it is popularly portrayed as. When sharing a dream bath though, your eyes will already be closed so you can share it with absolutely anyone. I shared mine with my wife who was a reluctant and water-shy cat named Marmalade. Eventually she settled down and enjoyed the bath, right up until the moment that she morphed into a roof-tile and sank without trace at the tap-end, forcing me to eat the rest of the yoghurt alone.

4. Finding The Soap. In your actual bath, you’ll probably find that you spend approximately 8.4% of your time trying to find the soap that you’ve just dropped (which is not as surprising an experience as trying to find it when in prison, but it is still rather an irksome chore). In the dream bath, however, there’s always soap, probably from Lush. And you can bathe safe in the knowledge that it will never, ever have a pubic hair stuck to it. Unless, of course, that’s what you dream about, in which case you’re making my dreams seem positively conventional. And you should never sleep again.

5. No Interruption. My dream bath – unlike my actual baths – wasn’t interrupted by anyone knocking on the bathroom door asking to use the toilet. It was interrupted by a pelican asking for directions to Mr Bobble’s House of Wobbles, but I got rid of him simply by clapping my hands together and shouting “Muffins!” He was far easier to deal with than the desperate and persistent aspiring toilet-users that blight actual baths. Sometimes it seems that pregnant women want to pee just to spite you, and during a long bath, when you’re sharing a house with a pregnant lady, you can find yourself being spited several times. Then that finishes and for the next eighteen years you’ll have a child that will interrupt you in the bath. In my dream bath that did not happen. Obviously, my sleep was interrupted by the child, but that’s a slightly different thing. Probably.

6. No Cleaning. Unlike your actual bath, you’ll never have to clean your dream bath – unless you actually dream about cleaning baths, in which case, thank you, mine was spotless when I got in and I really enjoyed the scented candles and the petals floating on the surface. The meticulously constructed wigwam of bath-towels might have been a step too far though, but you won’t find me complaining. Not least because I can hide in the wigwam while I’m doing so. For other people that don’t clean baths in their sleep, the good news is you won’t have to clean the bath in your sleep. That’s good news.

7. Wake Refreshed And Ready. Nothing prepares you for your day like a dream bath because – like nothing – having a dream bath is not actually having a bath. You will, however, wake feeling refreshed, invigorated and ready for your day; I know I did. You’ll have to spend a large part of that day dodging mirrors and people with a sense of smell, but surely that’s a small price to pay for the amazing time saving and great start to the day. And how close do you really want people to stand to you anyway? With a dream bath, you can keep them at armpit’s length. It’s all win.

August 25, 2011
Guest Post: 7 Reasons Why Glastonbury Rocks

Last week we had Luke Glassford on the 7 Reasons sofa suggesting Glastonbury wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. At the end of his piece you may remember that he said he was looking forward to the counter-argument. This week we have it. Stepping up to the plate and batting for the other side (you know what I mean) is Adam Robinson. And here are his seven reasons why, actually, Glastonbury rocks your socks off.

1. One Man’s Junk Is Another Man’s Junk. Don’t worry about litter or what to do with those ironically named disposable barbecues. When the festival ends, the farm opens its gates again for more partying but there is no music. They are here; armed with refuse sacks and a whole lot of enthusiasm, to clean the place up, field by field. They are like a swarm of bees. Nay, they are like vultures feasting on the dying embers of the planets greatest party. But, to their credit, they leave no trace and they depart with a smile on their face. Their reward is the right to keep anything of perceived value that they find. Oh, and don’t pre-judge what might be of value. I saw a smiley chap skipping around trying to make a kite out of an abandoned tent. I think he was trying to fly home.

2. New Appreciation. As you anticipate the headline set from ‘that band’ that they spoke about on Radio 1, you leave the Pyramid Stage with all its colourful flags and TV cameras. You have an hour to kill and your nomadic instinct brings you to the Other Stage. You know that band that your sister likes? Well, they are five minutes into their set and they seem to have a certain presence. You see, Glastonbury is a place for great live music. You may not like their album. You may even ridicule your sister. But today you learned that a band that has a great live act is, well, great live. More discoveries await. You might pass on that headline act. They’re not even that good live.

3. Play It Again. Such is the draw of Glastonbury and all the kudos that goes with it that popular artists of yesteryear tend to make a rare appearance. Sure, it wasn’t the complete original line-up of Kool and the Gang this year but the surviving members have still got it and quite frankly, that’s not even important. The fact is, the younger audience will not have had a chance to see them before (or even heard of them) and the older audience might not have imagined they’d see them again. We are privileged. They may not be making a comeback and they may not have a one-off reunion concert planned at Wembley. But this is Glastonbury. How could they possibly refuse?

4. Toilets. That’s right. They stink and you have to queue for ages for the experience. But let’s face it; everybody has a memorable Glastonbury portaloo moment or a funny story to tell. I know I’ve got a few. Some too grim to share, some so funny I just love it when people say ‘so, how were the toilets?’ I get to tell them of the time when the smartass security meatheads drove over the pressurised toilet sucky pipey thingy thus covering their precious Land Rover in human ……er… poo. They deserved it and I laughed (and sneezed) for days. Glastonbury is about memories and I’ve got plenty that wouldn’t look out of place in a ‘Jackass’ movie.

5. Keep Your Eyes Peeled, They Won’t Just Be On Stage. The artists have come to have fun too. Why should they miss out? The most eagle eyed BBC cameraman will catch a fair amount of off duty singers and other such A-listers bopping around, singing along to their favourite bands. But, if you dig a little deeper, away from all the action for just a while, you might get to experience some real treats. The Banyan Tree, for instance, is a tent not much bigger than my living room. It wasn’t unusual, however, to witness the keyboard player from Death in Vegas jamming with an unsigned band before a crowd of about 25 people the night before his own set.

6. The Glade And Other Such Spin-Offs. Glastonbury Festival wouldn’t be such a global phenomenon if it didn’t promote diversity. It’s not all about hippies. Take The Glade for instance. So popular, it now has its own festival, thanks, in no small part, to its uniqueness. Okay, so you may have strolled past the Dance Tent and realised that there’s even a place for thumping bass bins and DJ’s at Glastonbury. But The Glade wouldn’t look out of place on a Star Wars set. Is it a field? Is it a tent? No, it’s a small, illuminated forest and the DJ’s ply their trade from the safety of a tree house. As you stomp around with the other druids whilst listening to Aphex Twin, you might actually feel like you have landed on Endor except there aren’t scary little creatures making funny noises. Wait, we’re listening to Aphex Twin.

7. The People. People come to enjoy themselves but not at the expense of others. Sure, there are big crowds but there’s no pushing and shoving and if you bump into someone, the chances are they’ll turn round and apologise to you. It’s like one big Glastonbury family sharing one special experience. If your ears need a break and you want to chill out, why spend half an hour looking for your tent when you can go and visit the Stone Circle or the Healing Fields. It’s peaceful there, man.

July 2, 2011
7 Reasons Blackout Blinds Are Surprisingly Effective

My wife and I are trying to train our child to recognise the difference between day and night at the moment and the latest weapon in our armoury is a blackout blind: a blind which prevents any light coming through the window. This, we not unreasonably thought, would prevent our six-week old son waking up at 5am when sunlight streams through our East facing bedroom window and would help him get into a settled routine of sleeping at night. So far, it has proved effective (after a fashion).

1. Fitting. As the member of the 7 Reasons team that is competent at DIY I envisaged that there would be no problems installing our blind, and I was almost correct. It was incredibly simple to fit, with only a bit of light drilling required. And it was simple right up until the moment – while I was balanced precariously atop a step-ladder – that everything went dark. Not just dim, you should understand, but dark. Preternaturally dark. Darker than spending a dark night in the darkest room of the Prince of Darkness wearing a sleeping mask. Darker than anything ever. There was no light. “Help!” “Help!” I called until my wife came up the stairs and opened the door, flooding the room with light from the hallway. “It all went dark”, I explained to a sceptical wife who couldn’t comprehend – or didn’t believe – that something as insubstantial as a piece of material could block out all light. I climbed down from the ladder with my reputation for DIY prowess, if not my dignity, intact.

2. Baby’s Bedtime. In the evening our son fell asleep before we expected him to and, rather than look a gift horse (or a sleeping baby, which is a very similar creature to a gift horse) in the mouth, we decided we would put him to bed right then. We gingerly carried him up the stairs and swaddled him in his cot. We began to sneak out of the room and paused to close the blind on the way. Everything went black. We couldn’t see a thing. We partially raised the blind again so that we could find the light switch and turned on the light so that we could see the door and find our way out. This woke the baby. Bugger.

3. Mummy’s Bedtime. Eventually, we were able to get our son back to sleep and, quite soon after, my wife snuck up to bed. I have little idea what happened, but after a couple of minutes, from my position in the room below, I heard a loud bang, followed about thirty seconds later by the noise of the baby crying. Then I heard the sound of my wife trying to placate the crying baby with a cuddly toy, before my parental selective deafness kicked in and I returned to what I was doing.

4. Daddy’s Bedtime. Eventually, the baby became quiet again and, having spent the remainder of a fascinating evening reconfiguring the 7 Reasons W3 Total Cache plugin and our email servers*, it was time for me to go to bed. I went up the stairs and changed in another room, so as not to disturb anyone. Then I snuck across the landing into the bedroom and closed the door noiselessly behind me. Where once there would have had been some residual light filtering through the blind to aid my navigation across the room, now there was none. I knew roughly where the bed was though, and I took several tentative steps toward it before stumbling over something and letting out an involuntary scream as I lost my balance and landed in a heap on the bed.

5. “AAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Shrieked a lump in the bed from beneath me as, in the pitch darkness, a screaming and unknown assailant pounced on her. I groped around for the switch to the bedside light and, finding it quickly, turned it on. I looked behind me to see what was on the floor. “Are you drunk?”, the now slightly calmer lump in the bed enquired. “I fell over an owl,” I replied.

6. “WWWWAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!” Said a tiny voice from the other side of the room reacting to the sudden light. Eventually we were able to get him back to sleep.

7. Sleep. I was unaware of what occurred during the remainder of the night. I have since been told that the usual cycle of the baby waking up and requiring feeding and changing carried on unaltered by the loss of the light. I was told that this morning when, after what I can only describe as the most blissfully tranquil sleep of my life, my rather tired looking wife shook me awake and informed me it was 11am and that we were going to be late for our lunch appointment. “But it can’t be”, I replied, “It’s still pitch black”.

So there you have it. Blackout blinds do work, and you can use them to lull the unsuspecting into sleeping longer and later. They just don’t work on babies.

*I had hoped to watch a couple of episodes of Bergerac. We sacrifice a lot for 7 Reasons.

May 11, 2011
7 Reasons To Love The Statesman!

Apart from waking up to the news that it is both International Women’s Day and Pancake Day, you may have also heard that 28,000 Police jobs are – in all likelihood – going to be cut. If your reaction to this news is one of fear, you need not worry. A new crime fighting force is out there. The UK’s answer to Kick-Ass is a real-life superhero. Let me introduce you to… The Statesman!

This powerhouse of a man is out there, right now – in Birmingham – protecting us. Protecting us all. Do we need 7 Reasons to love him? Of course we don’t. Are we going to give you 7 Reasons anyway? Well, obviously. Here they are:

1. Costume. The last person to try and spread a little love by wearing a Union Jack outfit was Geri Halliwell. The Statesman, though, has the eye mask to go with it. Which in my opinion makes all the difference. Everyone likes a superhero who can effectively combine fierce loyalty to his country with a bit of camp mystery.

2. Utility Belt. Savlon? Check. Plasters? Check. Maglite? Check. Swiss Army Knife from that Christmas cracker? Check. Let’s be honest, Superman was great, but he never took a strip of Elastoplast with him. The Statesman does. And a tube of Berocca to help the inebriated among us.

3. Moustache. The last time I saw something like this it was Movember 2009 and I was looking in the mirror. I scared people that month. Which only leads me to believe that The Statesman must scare baddies 24/7/365. Awesome man, just awesome!

4. Persuasive. Until the identity of The Statesman was splashed all over The Sun, his girlfriend thought he was off playing poker every night. Whether she ever questioned his choice of attire is, at present, unknown, but I suspect she did. I can only conclude therefore that The Statesman is a very persuasive chap. And let’s be clear about this, when you are faced with two bad men, each with a crowbar, the best way of unarming them is the mighty skill of persuasion.

5. Allies. That’s right, he has friends. Possibly in high places. Possibly in phone boxes. Possibly in the back of the Satesmobile. It doesn’t really matter where they are, the fact is they are out there. Fighting. Fighting for us. So go out, wear your bling, leave your car doors open, nothing bad will ever happen.

6. Weapons. There’s no gun, taser or baton sticking out of The Statesman’s trousers. He is unarmed. Well, except for his quick wit and boxing mitts. Given that gangs have ready access to a variety of kitchen utensil you have to applaud The Statesman’s ‘no violence’ approach. If only wars were fought in such a way.

7. Heart. Many superheroes are pre-occupied with fighting, not The Statesman though. If there is no crime to be fought, he’ll happily help the drunk across the road or give a blanket to a homeless person. A clever villain would probably try and use such a scenario as a diversion tactic, but I just have a sneaking suspicion that The Statesman will be ready for such an eventuality. He’s a superhero after all.

March 8, 2011
7 Reasons My Dream Was A Bit Odd

In a last minute change to 7 Reasons proceedings, the post originally planned for today has been postponed in favour of something that happened overnight. A bit like Martin Luther King, I had a dream. Unlike him however, I was the only one to witness it. Which is why I must share mine with you. Now. It was weird.

1. Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! I’m in a house. But it’s also a hotel. And an airport. It’s next to a London train station. It’s supposed to be London Victoria, but it’s not. So I’m in this house – which is also a hotel and an airport – and everything is going well. I am just wandering. Wandering around. Looking at plates and planes and….oh, a playground. I remember now, there was a playground. And then there’s a fire. Like Billy Joel, I didn’t start the fire, but if I don’t get a bloody shift on I’m going to burn to a crisp. (We’ll come to the crisps later). So I start running. And I find myself in a…

2. Room. It’s a bedroom. And it has a window. Two of them in fact. And outside of the window is a roof terrace. And a ladder into the garden. A garden which I can only assume is on the opposite side of the house to the airfield. I open the window and in a move that a contortionist or Anne Widdecombe would be proud of, manage to get myself through the smallest gap in the world. And with it, to safety. We then shift forward to…

3. The Next Day. I can only assume it’s the next day because otherwise I’d be re-entering a house that is on fire. And that would be stupid. And as I had the intelligence to get out the of house fire in the first place, I don’t believe I am stupid in this dream. So, it’s the next day and I am back in the room that I escaped from. There is smoke damage and Dr Howard Denton. You probably won’t recognise this name because he was one of my lecturers when I was at University. What the bloody hell he is doing here, I have no idea. But I don’t seem to care. In fact I am very happy to see him. Because he starts helping me look for my…

4. iPhone Charger. I must have lost it the previous night. Along with my wallet and car keys. Rather brilliantly I find my iPhone charger lying on top of a dressing table. Obviously that’s one of the most important things to do when trying to escape a house fire. Put your iPhone charger on a dressing table so you can come back to get it the next day. You’d do well to remember that. I am so delighted that I’ve found my iPhone charger that I give Dr Howard Denton my crisps. (Told you we’d come back to them). They’re Phileas Fogg range. Irish cheddar with onion chutney flavour. I know I’ve eaten some already because there’s a wooden clothes peg fastening the packet closed. You can say what you like about me, but I know how to keep crisps fresh. This is when…

…I wake up. My girlfriend’s shouting about babies. At least I think she is at the time. In hindsight I am not entirely sure she was. Either way, I show my caring side by asking her if she’s okay. She is, so I fall back to sleep. And I start dreaming again. And I’m back in another house. A house belonging to…

5. Judy Murray. And the only reason I know the house belongs to Judy Murray is because she has just walked through the front door and said, ‘What are you doing in my house?’ For reasons (probably less than seven) unbeknown to me, we go into the garden where I try and explain. Rather splendidly Judy has sofas and chairs in her garden. And I decide to put two chairs together to form a boat. I then explain to Judy that I was merely in her house to work because it was too noisy back at mine. She seems to understand and, for the first time in my life, I begin to like Judy Murray. Which is when everything becomes a blur until I find myself outside Judy Murray’s house. And in through the window of next door, I can see England bowler…

6. Steven Finn. He’s doing the washing up and not looking as tall as I had seen him on TV. To make sure it doesn’t look like I am stalking him, I get down in Judy Murray’s driveway and start doing press-ups. I’m obviously an optimistic dreamer because I do bloody hundreds of them. All while looking at Steven Finn. Until Judy Murray’s front door opens and out walks…

7. Judy Murray. She starts asking me if – while I’ve been living in her house – I have moved the car. Apparently the hedges look a bit bashed up. Now, I don’t remember dreaming about it, but I know that I did drive Judy Murray’s car into the flowerbed. Which is why I lie and deny I have been anywhere near her Volvo. Once again, she seems to understand. Which is when one of my old school friends rocks up and starts telling me how much he loved my film. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I say, ‘Thanks’ anyway. He then mentions he reads 7 Reasons. Which is when I wake up. Hopefully I’ll find out tonight whether he likes it or not.

October 1, 2010
7 Reasons That You Shouldn’t do Bicycle Maintenance at 3am

3am: A time when almost everyone is in bed, sleeping. But you may not be. You may be lying in bed, unable to sleep. You may be pontificating on weighty and important matters such as: What is the best wine to serve with SPAM? Why does my local supermarket always run out of crumpets on Monday? What would win in a fight; a pangolin or a labrador? Usually these thoughts are inconclusive but, as you lay thinking important things, you may have a eureka moment and suddenly – and rather excitingly – the cause of the strange noise that your bicycle has been making all week will become apparent to you. But under no circumstance, no matter how enthused you are, should you take any action at this time. Here are seven reasons you shouldn’t do bicycle maintenance at 3am.

1. It’s Cold. Not in bed, it’s nice and warm there. But it will be cold in the kitchen. Very cold. But that’s where the bicycle and tools are. So, as you’ve arrived downstairs wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, you’ll grab whatever clothes you can find from the cupboard under the stairs. And fairly soon, outfitted in green flip-flops, a pink and brown striped scarf, a beige trenchcoat, a blue bobble hat and a pair of grey fingerless gloves, you’ll think to yourself, never mind, it’s not like anyone will see me. Then you’ll head into the kitchen where it will be…

2. Dark. So you’ll put the kitchen lights on, and the kitchen will become very bright indeed. So bright, in fact, that you’ll hurt your eyes and be caused to squint. But you’ll set to work anyway; squinting, with spanner in hand and then, out of the corner of your squinty eye, you’ll notice a light, shining through your window (because no one covers their kitchen windows). Yes, it’s…

3. The Neighbours. Or more specifically, the neighbours whose bedroom overlooks your kitchen. And you’ll do what anyone would do in this circumstance. You’ll stand up, squinting, smile and wave at them. Mostly to reassure them that it’s you and not a brainsick, colour-blind tramp who has broken in to steal the pasta from your kitchen. Or the lemons. And eventually, after the initial shock at seeing your outfit has worn off, they’ll realise that you’re not a burglar. And the spanner that you’re waving in your right-hand will probably mirror their opinion of you. Anyway, the neighbours will soon go back to sleep and you’ll return to the bike and work slowly and deliberately, in order to be…

4. Quiet. Shh. Very Quiet. As quiet as a timid dormouse breaking wind next to a hungry lion. Because your bedroom’s above the kitchen. And making a noise would be inconsiderate/very very dangerous. So you’ll work quietly, and that will go well. Until you drop the spanner onto the quarry tiles. And you will drop the spanner onto the quarry tiles. Then – suddenly – and without warning, you will be face to face with…

5. Angry Woman. And Angry Woman is…angry. Furious, in fact. Angry Woman is…shouting. She’s shouting things like:

“What the hell are you doing?” In this circumstance – even though you have a spanner in your hand and a partly disassembled bicycle in front of you, you shouldn’t resort to sarcasm. That will make Angry Woman turn red and growl. You don’t want that. And then she may shout…

“You love that bicycle more than you love me.” Now, the last time she said something, you spoke, and that didn’t go at all well. But that doesn’t mean that pausing and considering your words carefully is a good idea this time; it certainly isn’t. Because then it will appear that you’re actually considering whether you love the bicycle more. And even though your bicycle isn’t the one yelling and shouting at you, and it does have red handlebars and a nice…no, no you don’t love the bicycle more. Really. Anyway, the pause is a bad thing. Because then she’ll shout…

“You’re supposed to be in bed. WITH ME!” Okay, so sarcasm and thinking haven’t gone well for you. What’s left? Humour? No. “I didn’t think you’d want your bottom bracket lubricating at 3am, darling” is the wrong reply. And after she’s shouted,

“And what the hell are you wearing?!” (it’s rhetorical this time) before storming upstairs, you’ll probably come to the conclusion that it’s time to go…

6. Back To Bed. Stepping out of your Beach-Boy-hobo-Humprey-Bogart-on-acid-costume, you’ll return to the nice warm bed where you’ll discover by touching legs with your wife that your body temperature is at least ten centigrade lower than hers. And then she will kick you. Very hard. This will hurt, and in two days time you’ll have a large blue and purple bruise on your left shin. At this point though, when the pain subsides, you’ll fall into a deep, satisfying, refreshing sleep and the next morning you’ll wake up and feel amazing. And you’ll feel that way right up until the moment you open your eyes and see the…

7. Oily Fingerprints All Over The Sheets And Pillows. Ooops. And later, on your cycle ride, you may feel inclined to visit both the florist and the chocolatier.

September 28, 2010