Even on those rare evenings when I manage to retire to bed at a reasonable hour, drifting off to dreamland seems nearly impossible. This is when my mind decides it’s the ideal moment to revisit the day’s events, all the things I didn’t accomplish, and the tasks awaiting me tomorrow.
Oh, let’s ponder the laundry! my brain chirps, as if it’s full of energy while I’m utterly spent after dinner. And how about the mortgage? The kids’ upcoming school performance? The weather forecast? The grocery list. That recipe I saved from Pinterest. An article someone shared on social media. And that brief fling I had in eighth grade, when I got dumped for… well, you know, the girl with the ample assets. Let’s think about EVERYTHING!
Meanwhile, my husband lies next to me, blissfully ignorant of my internal monologue. The moment his head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light. I wonder when he has time to think — perhaps during his long bathroom breaks? Because it certainly isn’t when he’s trying to sleep. His eyes shut, and he’s gone.
I know it’s not his fault, but a part of me can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. Oh, how I wish I could fall asleep as easily as he does! But I get it; he works hard and deserves his peaceful rest. The real problem isn’t his ability to fall asleep instantly; it’s the fact that he snores — loudly and without mercy — every single night.
Falling asleep is challenging enough with my racing thoughts, but it becomes nearly impossible with a symphony of snores echoing just inches from my ear. He has an impressive repertoire of sounds, each snore distinct — the “Rusty Chainsaw Cutting Through Styrofoam,” the “Vibrator Running Out of Batteries,” the “Asthmatic Darth Vader,” and the “Horse Eating an Extra-Juicy Apple,” to name a few. I might appreciate the variety if it weren’t so exasperating.
I always start by trying to ignore it; after all, he’s not doing it on purpose. He has no idea it sounds like he’s trying to inhale the curtains. Yet, settling in for a restful night while the wind tunnel wheezes beside me is like attempting to brush my teeth with crumbled Oreos: it’s simply futile. Every night, I hope that this time I’ll manage to drift off despite the cacophony, but it never works out.
I begin with a gentle poke and a soft whisper, “Pssst… you’re snoring.” Sometimes it works, and he turns onto his side. But that’s rare. Most of the time, the poke is ineffective, too gentle to make an impact. I lie there, eyes firmly shut, trying to breathe deeply and enter a Zen-like state that transcends my annoyance. But my irritation bubbles up like a pot on the verge of boiling. The gentle poke transforms into a firmer nudge and a louder hiss: “You’re snoring!”
The thing about snorers is they often sleep soundly. So while the nudge is an improvement, it usually doesn’t do the trick. Instead of losing my cool, I attempt to refocus and find my inner calm. I remind myself I’m in control of my reactions. I can rise above this! I try to concentrate on other sounds, like the fan, the rustling leaves outside, or my own breathing. I even put in earbuds to listen to calming music.
But alas, none of it drowns out the relentless sound of Sir Snores-a-Lot. My annoyance shifts to outright frustration. “Tranquil” is a distant memory, and I’m mentally plotting how I could use the nearest dirty sock to muffle that infuriating noise.
Finally, I muster the energy for a well-placed shove and an exasperated groan: “You’re snoring!” This inevitably wakes him up.
“Geez,” he mutters, turning on his side, “Why are you so hostile?”
As the sweet sound of silence envelops me, my frustration dissipates. I can finally start to breathe evenly, and as I lie in the comforting darkness, sleep begins to take me. Until… skkkknnnnnnggghhhhhhhh.
Tomorrow night, I just might keep that dirty sock under my pillow.
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In summary, navigating the nightly battle against a partner’s snoring requires a mix of patience and creativity. Whether it’s gentle nudges or a private plot involving laundry items, the quest for a peaceful night’s sleep continues.