I’ve several blog post drafts in various states of draftness but I interrupt this boring piece of news which has done nobody any good whatsoever or enriched anyone’s Friday morning to tell you about my Fitbit stats. 

I’m homeward bound today after three days of overzealous Fitbit activity monitoring. It seems I’ve had a total of nine hours actual sleep since Tuesday despite the 27 miles I’ve (allegedly) stomped round Paris and despite the foolhardy over-consumption of steak frites and white wine. 

Of course, had it not been for the aforementioned Fitbit (Fatbutt?) stats obsession I’d’ve been none the wiser about my 227 minutes of restlessness during my 239 minute “sleep” but it does paint a worrying picture, does it not? 

I’ll bet doctors’ surgeries are overwhelmed with hypochondriac, middle aged fannies like me marching into their surgeries waving their Fitbit apps around, citing their sleep reports as evidence that something is terribly, terribly wrong and demanding referrals to sleep clinics. I won’t be happy until I can find an ailment I can pin ALL my random symptoms on. 

The time I’ve spent in Paris not sleeping the non-sleep of the insomniac has of course been very pleasant thank you very much. This includes sitting on the apartment balcony naked from the waist down, taking the air (and the odd Marlboro Light) allowing the curse of the fat thighed woman – the chub rub –  to calm the fuck down. 

 Balcony sitting also afforded me the opportunity to perv over the neighbour’s rabbits, much to Les’s annoyance: “Will you STOP looking at the wee rabbits?! You can’t have them. If I wake up and there’s a rabbit in the bed I’ll be very angry”. But that just made me look wistfully through that crack even more. 


Au revoir les lapins du (de?) Paris. Bonjour my own bed and more Fitbit sleep pattern (or lack thereof) obsessiveness.   

Fuller and illustrated report to follow if I can be arsed revisiting and revising all the bloody drafts. 


3 thoughts on “Au revoir les lapins 

  1. Step away from the Fatbit’s sleep monitor!!

    I love to worry about how much sleep I’m not getting, plus I’m very competitive and it took over my life. If I was only 93% sleep efficient who were the other fuckers getting better marks in their sleep exams? What were they doing that I wasn’t? Could yoga and camomile tea REALLY work better than a bottle of white wine and half a kebab? Bitches I kept myself awake for literally hundreds of hours worrying about it. I eventually googled ‘93% sleep efficiency anonymous support group I am a bad person’ and found a table that indicated if I was any more sleep efficient I’d probably have to seek treatment for narcolepsy, at which point Him Indoors confiscated it. I now have the normal insomnia of a slightly deranged peri menopausal 51 year old woman. Ain’t no amount of Fitbit gonna help that.

    Liked by 1 person

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