Snoring.  Snoring (not mine) just might very well be the bain of my existence.  I know I’m not alone here, many people, let’s call a spade a spade, many women spend their nights tossing and turning while contemplating how many years we’d be put away for, if we actually did smother our spouses with their pillows. 

During the day, my husband is a good guy, but all bets are off when he plops himself into a horizontal position.  That’s when annoying, vibrating uvulaman (yes, I made that up, it’s not a SAT word that you never learned) makes his nightly debut. 

Things start off innocently enough. “Goodnight honey, love you” goes the beginning of the downward spiral.  A kiss or two, and he’s out for the night.  In the spirit of full-disclosure, I should mention that I’m a very light sleeper and I usually don’t fall asleep until close to midnight.  My knight in shining armor can fall asleep at any time and any place, no problem.

Do you hear that?  Shhh, listen.  For a little while it’s hardly more than a gentle burbling, from there, my husband of 16 years moves into a louder version of ‘white noise’, which by the way, if I wanted that kind of thing I would have bought myself one of those fancy sleep aid machines years ago, thank you very much!

By now it’s 1:00am and I can feel my stress level heading north.  The bed has started to vibrate mildly, and like the noise machine, if I wanted that kind of thing I would have had a coin-op machine attached to the side of our bed years ago.  Do you feel me?

1:15am and I’m pretty sure there’s a battery operated chainsaw sharing the bed with me.  2:00am and the chainsaw must have gotten run over by the freight train that is barreling through our bedroom.  Plus, the vibrating machine is in overdrive.  I’m hanging on for dear life.

2:30am and I start my usual huffing and puffing, followed by a cry of “Seriously?” said over and over.  I’ve also mastered the smack-the-bed move.   This is a high skill move that I don’t recommend lightly.  It involves stealth.  Yeah right, like Mr. Snore would even notice if I tipped the mattress over.  Anyway, from 2:30am - 3:00am I resort to mattress smacking, hey, at least I don’t ever hit my beloved…at least not on purpose.

Somewhere after 3:00 in the morning, one of two things happen; either his adnoids/sinuses etc. are tired from the internal concert they just performed, and things pretty much quiet down, or I’m so exhausted that I pass out anyway.

Filed under: Debbe Taylor, humor for women