 |
Snoring
By Steven Kas
We do the darndest things to survive in a relationship, desperately trying not to make changes for fear of retaliation. I'm asking you, what would you do if the object of your affection were one of those who snore? Would you insist on separate bedrooms, medical intervention or, I'm thinking the unthinkable: divorce? To aggravate your predicament further, you know very well that her excessive eating habit, which borders on obesity, is a major cause of the nightly rock concert. How would you like a Springstein sound a like hitting the same high nasal note through the night? You go bananas, that's what you do. Honest to goodness I tried everything. Calling her name seldom results in a brake of the snoring. Kicking her gently might make her stop, but turning on her other side she starts immediately in another key. (At best, you're grateful for the variation.) Nothing's left me to do except, ear plugs. I tried all the varieties, the foams: round short and the longs. The cone shaped and the plunger type. Finally I settled with the soft wax kind, a bit disgusting, but works the best. (An outrageous ten bucks for a dozen. I bet it doesn't cost them, with the cheap packaging included more than a dollar to produce. That's a subject for another column.)
Well, earplug in and I'm ready for a good night's sleep. I'm laying like a man in a void. Nothing of the outside world can penetrate my consciousness. I feel like I'm floating under water, too bad my lumbago still hurts. The loudest noise is my heart pounding. I can't lay on my side because the vein in my left temple touching the pillow is so loud it keeps me awake. And then the disturbing thoughts. What if there is a fire, and I can't hear the smoke alarm? What if somebody sneaks into my bedroom and plunges a knife into my heart? I wouldn't even notice it. What if a sudden tornado rips off the roof above my head and I'm getting soaking wet... what a way to be awakened. (I wonder if she would stop snoring.) And then, through the plug I hear the dog barking disapprovingly at the front door, I look at the clock on my nightstand... the next door neighbor's boyfriend leaves again later than is appropriate by Anka's old fashioned standard. (Anka is the dog of the house and makes a racket only if he, the boyfriend stays past midnight.) I'm reassured, yes; alarming loud noise does indeed reach my inner ear. So, good-bye world, good-bye snoring sleeping beauty I'm off to never land.
Wrong. Her nighttime snack is stored in the drawer of the night table and since it is on my side, I'm supposed to offer her some whenever she feels like munching. Earplug in place I can't hear her repeated request. Next, she stares at my face in close proximity, which I've learned to ignore, but she's got terrible fish breath. Tuna was served for supper. You think snoring is bad? Think again. I'm in panic, I had an instant nightmare, and swimming with a school of tuna fish and the Spanish armada is above us with illegal nets. Just in time, before she bites my nose, I wake up, in a semi- coma I offer a handful of munchies to her, and I try to go back to sleep. I turn on my left side, when out of the blue I get a face full of wet tongue. The dog wants some too. - Did you know that an average dog's got a tongue five to six time that of a human, plus she can stick it out as far as a frog. - I obey. By this time I'm wide-awake. I get out of bed and head to the kitchen for a glass of milk, maybe it will help to get back to sleep. Navigating through the house in the dark I bump into Clara, my wife, she is having her usual, a couple slices of rye with a generous amount of plum preserve spread on it. She is eating in the dark so she can't see the calories. I have to loosen one of the plugs in my ear to hear what she is saying.
"Get them out of your bedroom and keep the door closed."
I can't. I can't disappoint them. They are not like people to understand selfishness, they extend their unconditional love, and they expect you to do the same. They accept you without reservation as you are, in return you should do the same. Snoring? You snore too. Your cat never kicked you in the butt or screamed at you to turn over.
I learned to sleep with an earplug and quickly respond to the first nibble on my elbow, to serve her munchies. I mounted the telephone on the wall, so she won't be able to knock it down in anger whenever I'm slow to respond. My door is still wide open; they can come and go as they please. Sometimes they argue, lots of hissing and growling goes on for the occupation of places of privilege, but my ears are shut and I sleep as a baby... until she gets physical. I hope you've realized by now, that I was talking about my cat, the venerable Ms. Mutyurke.
***The End***
Steven Kas's Website
Comment on this story?
Home Page
Send E-Mail to: dhsully@gmail.com
Copyright © 2007 Donald H Sullivan. All Rights Reserved