A Wife’s “SnoreTime” story!
A wife often has to deal with a lot, especially if “a lot” involves a snoring husband. Recently, a wife shared a hilarious recollection of her dealing with her chainsaw of a husband.
Getting in your bed at a decent hour for a woman with kids is quite a rare opportunity. And when get that lucky I would just dream of getting a perfect, well deserved goodnight’s sleep. But it’s the same time my mind decides to race at its full throttle with the events of my day. All the things that I have done today and that I should have done.
Let’s think about the laundry, the mortgage, oh and the grocery list, the weather forecast, the kid’s performance at school, that Pinterest recipe, that interesting article some friend posted on your wall… and the list goes on and on. Even though I am exhausted to my core and I so want to get that beautiful slumber, my brain is like… let’s think about ALL THE THINGS!
Well if that was not enough to struggle with my sleep, just beside me my husband who is blissfully ignorant of my internal monologue is enjoying his slumber with a horrible chorus of snores.
I envy his sleep, not the snoring part. It’s because whenever his cheeks rests upon his pillow he is out like a light. He gets that deep and peaceful sleep like him which I so direly need. He doesn’t have to struggle with that non-stop monologue like me.
But suddenly my envy changes to a brutal wish to stab him. Not because I can’t sleep like him but of his loud and relentless snoring. That’s the most annoying chorus I have ever experienced coming out of his half open mouth.
If you think she’s done, just wait, it gets better.
It’s hard to sleep with your mind racing with your thoughts but it’s quite impossible when there is a cacophony of clicks and rumbles and rasps happening a foot from your ear. The diversity of his snoring sounds is quite impressive and he has a new kind of snore for almost every night. The “Rusty Chainsaw Cutting Through Styrofoam,” the “Vibrator Running Out of Batteries,” the “Asthmatic Darth Vader,” the “Bitterly Disappointed Bee,” and the “Horse Eating an Extra-Juicy Apple,” just to name a few. One can actually appreciate such variety it they were not the most annoying sounds on the face of this earth.
At first I always try my best to ignore it. After all it’s not like that he does not stage this performance to annoy me. On the contrary he is quite oblivious of the fact that he is trying to snore the life out of me while he is enjoying his blissful deep sleep. But imagine how impossible it is to settle into a peaceful slumber right next to this horrible sound mill. It’s like trying to clean your teeth with crumbled Oreos. No matter how hard you try you’re never going to get your sleep right next that chorus of XXXNNNNRRRRRRRRGGGHHHHH
Here is a look at my desperate bed time routine to get rid of these annoying sounds. At first I slightly poke him with my index figure along with an apologetic whisper, “You’re snoring.” Sometimes when its my “Lucky” day, and he is not in a deep sleep, it works and turns over his side. But that’s exceptionally rare. Most of the times, this gentle poke is like throwing a beanbag to a burgler.
You can hear the pain and annoyance in her words
I lie in my bed with my eyes close shut, breathing deeply and silently trying to transcend my annoyance. But then it starts to bubble like a hot boiling pot and this gentle poke and whisper turns into a firm nudge to the shoulder and a louder, “You’re snoring!”
The thing is that snorers are also heavy sleepers. So this nudge above that poke still proves to be insufficient most of the time. But instead of losing my temper all over I try to calm myself by focusing on other noises—the fan, the wind outside, my own breath. I also try the soft calm music putting my ear buds in. I am calm! I am the master of my reactions! I can rise above! I am tranquil, dammit!
No sound would muffle that soul torturing of Snnnnxxxxkkkhhh.
With a husband like that, who needs sleep?
My annoyance, fueled by this torture, turns into straight pissed off condition. “Tranquil” is out of the equation and I am frantically thinking of finding a dirty sock and using it in the most creative ways to muffle that noise; that incessant, repetitive, maddening, infuriating noise.
Instead I shove that irritation up in some well put up manner and with an exasperated groan I would say: “You’re snoring!” At that point, my husband can’t help but wake up.
“Geez,” he huffs groggily as he turns onto his side. “Why are you so hostile?”
As the sweet divine sound of bedtime silence descends upon me my anger finally rests at peace and my breathing regulates. I can at last clear my mind and fill it with that sweet silence. Enveloped in the darkness, my eyes filled with sleep I descend into the embrace of much awaited slumber until skkkknnnnnnggghhhhhhhh.