A Lonely Bed

I think I've written here before about an odd phenomenon that would happen to me on weekend nights when I was living in Somerville. I would just stay up late in to the night and not want to turn the TV off even when I was ready for bed and about to fall asleep. It was something about the company of the flickering screen and the loneliness I wasn't releasing, I believe. Since moving to NY it hasn't happened, we don't have a TV in the bedroom here and I'm not lonely when I get in to bed- okay Matt does stay up hours after I retire normally- but I can hear him in the living room and that comforts me.
Tonight he is in Queens being with his Mom as they tend to and grieve together over his sick, dying, childhood dog. Sure I whined a little when he found out at 10pm she needed him there, but that is surely more important than me getting him for a couple of hours tonight when we live together.
I've slept alone here a couple of times, but not unexpectedly like this. I'm feeling a magnetic push away from the bed, I want pretty badly to just climb in to it and fall asleep especially since before last night I had fitful nights of coughing and little sleep, but as hard as I try and push my body there it just won't click. Which explains me still being at 2am with a marathon of Clean House under my belt and my Google Reader all marked as read. A lonely bed is not an inviting one.
And, although I feel somewhat pathetic admitting that one night apart makes me sad and lonely, I know that it is because giving up something you're used to without much warning is hard to adjust to. I know I'm not the only one.
But tomorrow I have big plans of shopping and cleaning and maybe filling another evening apart with somethings or someone, so I've got to get some rest tonight and sleep aids will ensure that my lonely mind isn't racing for too long.
At least making the bed will be easy in the morning.