Hah, fair enough Sam

she sounds like a complicated ex, probably best not complicated any further.. got any alcohol left?
There was no alcohol left (and I can't drink too much around her for fear of upsetting her), but enough weed for a bedtime joint. Small mercies.
The spare room was locked and occupied, so the floor it was. I used my guile though; the fucker had fallen asleep on one side of the sofa with his feet on the armchair. I knew he couldn't keep that up forever. Nobody can.
So I liberated the cushion from the side he wasn't asleep on, took the blankets which were the 'subtle hint' I was planning to sleep there that apparently went unnoticed, then curled up in a foetal position under the blankets and my Gestapo trenchcoat. More or less as soon as my joint was finished, he stirred, shifted positions and made himself 'comfortable' on the now half-sofa, leaving me free to nick the cushion from the armchair, meaning I had a makeshift bed.
Unfortunately A***'s house is cold at the best of times (east and west-facing windows everywhere but the kitchen), and it was a two-degree night, so it wasn't the best, but it was sleep.
I was afforded a guilt-inspired half hour or so in her bed while she got ready for work, then frogmarched out to walk her to the bus stop and... well, here I am.
Beats rough sleeping, eh? I feel more manly as a result, though also a lot more achey. Definitely won't be falling asleep on the floor without a smack blanket again.
