Even on those rare nights when I manage to hit the sheets at a reasonable hour, it’s not as if I can drift off immediately. That’s when my brain decides it’s prime time to replay the day’s events, all the things I should’ve accomplished, and everything on tomorrow’s to-do list.
Let’s not forget about laundry! my mind chimes in, suddenly wide awake despite my weariness since dinner. Oh, and the mortgage! The kids’ school play. The weather prediction. The grocery list. That cool recipe I saved from Pinterest. That article I saw on your Facebook wall. And that awkward fling you had back in eighth grade — you know, the one who dumped you for the girl with the impressive assets. Let’s contemplate ALL THE THINGS!
Meanwhile, my husband lies next to me, blissfully ignorant of the chaos in my mind. The moment his head hits the pillow, he’s out cold. I can’t help but wonder when he finds time to think — perhaps during his marathon bathroom sessions? It certainly isn’t while he’s trying to sleep. His eyes shut, and he’s gone in an instant.
It’s not his fault, I get that, yet I can’t shake off a tinge of jealousy. Oh, to be in his position (or rather, his slippers), catching Z’s without a mental marathon first. But hey, he works hard, and I don’t begrudge him a sound night’s sleep. What truly drives me up the wall isn’t his ability to doze off right away; it’s the fact that he snores — loudly and incessantly — every single night.
Falling asleep is already a struggle when my thoughts are racing, but it’s nearly impossible when a symphony of snores erupts a foot from my ear. He has an astonishing repertoire of sounds, with a different snore for each night: the “Rusty Chainsaw in a Styrofoam Factory,” the “Vibrator Running Out of Juice,” the “Asthmatic Darth Vader,” the “Disappointed Bumblebee,” and the “Horse Devouring a Juicy Apple,” just to name a few. I might even admire such diversity if it weren’t the most exasperating noise imaginable.
I initially try to ignore it, reminding myself that he doesn’t do this on purpose; he’s blissfully unaware that it sounds like he’s attempting to inhale the curtains (the neighbors’ curtains). But trying to fall asleep with a wind tunnel wheezing in the bed is like trying to brush my teeth with crushed Oreos: futile. And every night, I foolishly hope I can drift off despite the cacophony of XXXNNNNRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHH next to me, but it never works.
I start with a gentle poke and a soft, almost apologetic whisper of “Pssst … you’re snoring.” If I’m lucky, he stirs enough to roll over, but that’s like a one in twelve chance. Most of the time, my gentle poke is as effective as tossing a beanbag at a burglar.
I lie there with my eyes squeezed shut, taking deep (silent) breaths, trying to reach a Zen state that transcends my annoyance. But the irritation bubbles up like water in a kettle. So my gentle poke morphs into a firmer nudge and a louder hiss: “You’re snoring!”
The dilemma with snorers is that they tend to be deep sleepers. So while a nudge is a step up from a poke, it still doesn’t usually work. Rather than lose my cool, I attempt to go back to sleep despite the racket. I have control! I can rise above! I’m calm, for crying out loud! I redirect my focus to other sounds — the fan, the wind outside, my own breathing. I even try earbuds with soothing music.
But I can’t hear any of it over the sound of Sir Snnnnxxxxkkkhhh-a-Lot.
My annoyance escalates into full-blown frustration. “Calm” vanishes as I mentally search for the nearest dirty sock, fantasizing about all the creative ways I could use it to muffle that relentless, maddening noise.
Instead, I channel my irritation into a well-placed shove and an exasperated groan: “You’re snoring!” At this point, my husband can’t help but wake up.
“Geez,” he grumbles, turning onto his side, “Why are you so hostile?”
As the sweet, sweet sound of silence finally settles in, my anger dissipates. My breathing steadies. I can finally clear my mind as I lie there in the soothing darkness, my eyes growing heavy as I drift into the long-awaited embrace of much-needed sleep. Until…
skkkknnnnnnggghhhhhhhh.
Tomorrow night, that dirty sock is staying under my pillow.
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Summary
This humorous piece highlights the nightly struggles of a wife dealing with her husband’s loud snoring while she tries to find peace and sleep. Despite her attempts to cope with the situation, the snoring makes it a challenge, leading to a relatable blend of frustration and humor.