For the second night in a row, I’ve had trouble sleeping. The first night, The Man woke me by snoring loudly in my ear. I had to bunk in the other bedroom (where I could still hear him snore). The next day I visited my doctor. She suggested that he get checked for sleep apnea. Over dinner yesterday evening with our best friends, I brought up the subject. “We all have sleep apnea.” was the dismissive response. OK, I guess I can scratch that solution to my problem.
Tonight my sleep was interrupted by my having to take a bathroom break. And sure enough when I returned to bed, The Man had switched his position in bed to face me. Though not too loudly, now he was snoring directly at me. I simply got out of bed. After all, I had gotten five hours of sleep (more than the night before). But as I exited the bedroom, my grandparents to mind.
When I was a child, I would spend the night at my paternal grandparents occasionally. I would sleep in the living room, either on the sleep-sofa or on a pallet on the floor. My grandparent’s bedroom was down the hall and on the other side of the house. From my spot in the living room, I could hear my grandfather snoring. The sound was the decibel equivalent to that of a chainsaw. I had no idea how my grandmother slept through it. Maybe it was the Ozzie and Harriet twin beds that did the trick, and thusly my grandfather could not snore directly in her ear. But she was in the same room as the grizzly, and he almost kept me awake at night.
Maybe my maternal grandparents actually had it figured out. Not only did they not sleep in the same bed, they slept in different bedrooms at opposite sides of the house. As a child I wondered at it, but I’m sure I never said anything (adults puzzled me anyway). My maternal grandparents were very affectionate with each other, even calling each other pet names. So I guess it wasn’t an attraction factor to warrant the separate sleeping chambers. Perhaps it was the snoring factor. Again, it’s still a mystery to me. Maybe an aunt can shed some light.
So here I sit in front on the computer at four in the morning, listening the Dvořák’s ninth symphony and drinking soda. Wonderful. Even the dogs and the cats are asleep. I’ll be walking in a fog by four o’clock this afternoon. I do not want to give up the closeness of sleeping with the guy I love. Solution? I think I see ear plugs in my future.