Even on those rare evenings when I manage to hit the hay at a reasonable hour, sleep eludes me. It’s like my brain decides that nighttime is the ideal moment to revisit the day’s events, all the tasks I neglected, and everything awaiting me tomorrow.
“Let’s ponder the laundry!” it chirps, full of energy despite my exhaustion. Oh, and don’t forget the mortgage! The kids’ upcoming school play. The weather. The grocery list. That Pinterest recipe I meant to try. And that brief relationship from middle school that ended in heartbreak. My mind races with ALL THE THOUGHTS!
Meanwhile, my husband lies next to me, completely oblivious to my restless mind. The moment his head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, seemingly in a deep slumber. I often wonder when he finds the time to think—perhaps during his lengthy bathroom breaks? Because it certainly isn’t when he’s in bed.
I can’t blame him for being a sound sleeper, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy. What I would give to fall asleep without a second thought! He deserves his restful nights after a long day, but it’s not just his ability to drift off that drives me up the wall—it’s his snoring, which is as loud as it is relentless.
Falling asleep is already a challenge with my mind racing, but add in the symphony of snores, and it’s nearly impossible. He has a whole repertoire of sounds that range from the “Rusty Chainsaw” to the “Sleepy Darth Vader” and even the “Discontented Bee.” Honestly, if it weren’t so maddening, I might even find it impressive.
Initially, I attempt to ignore the noise. After all, he doesn’t snore intentionally; he’s blissfully unaware that it sounds like he’s trying to inhale the curtains. Yet, finding tranquility alongside a snoring wind tunnel is as futile as trying to brush your teeth with crushed Oreos. Every night, I naïvely hope I’ll manage to fall asleep despite the cacophony, but it never works out.
I start with a gentle poke and a soft whisper of, “Hey, you’re snoring.” Sometimes, he stirs just enough to roll over. But most nights, my pokes are as effective as tossing a beanbag at a burglar. I find myself lying there, eyes squeezed shut, trying to relax deeply, but the annoyance simmers beneath the surface.
The gentle poke escalates to a firmer nudge and a louder hiss: “You’re snoring!” The truth about snorers is they tend to be deep sleepers, so my nudge often fails to wake him. But I remain determined to maintain my composure—after all, I can rise above this! I focus on other sounds, like the fan whirring or the distant wind, and even try to drown out the noise with calming music.
Yet, nothing can compete with the symphony of Sir Snore-a-Lot. My patience wears thin, and I find myself mentally plotting ways to silence the incessant noise. Instead of losing it, I muster up the energy for a well-placed shove and a frustrated groan, “You’re snoring!”
At that point, he finally stirs awake. “What’s your problem?” he mumbles sleepily, rolling onto his side. As the peaceful silence washes over me, my irritation fades. I can finally breathe easier and drift into a well-deserved slumber. Until… skkkknnnnnnggghhhhhhhh.
Tomorrow night, I’m definitely keeping that sock under my pillow.
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