of silence. Or not. You may recall how yesterday I admitted that I have an aversion to some noises--flip flop noise (though it could be ship ship noise, tbd), a lot of mouth noises, scraping your teeth across a fork noise, paper towel on dry hands noise, smacking, spitty k's (like in mil-K), it could go on forever really--and snoring.
I am the lightest sleeper ever--hence the deep love and devotion to ambien. So I took a half of one last night read a little Julie and Julia (which has me convinced that someday I can be famous for making eggs), and went to sleep. My husband stays up late doing things like making flying robots and saving the world from meteors, and perfecting all games on the wii (from which I'm very sore from boxing.)
And then it begins. The snoring. I keep saying his name, then yelling his name (and not in a good way.) Then I lay and brood. I wish I had a needle to poke him. not a crack needle (do you inject crack?), not a needle like you get shots with, but a tiny sewing needle. I mean, I'm not a barbarian. (everytime I say "barbarian" I think of Hana Barbara cartoons taht I watched on sunday mornings. Anyway, neither here nor there.) So I want to stick him every time he snores. I think it would greatly lead to more incidents, and maybe a divorce, but perhaps also some sweet sweet sleep. So there I lay... plotting my next move. My elbow is about kidney height. I'm awful. I JUST WANT TO SLEEP. Instead, I can't. I mean, if I get to the point to where I'm about to sleep (after I've said his name and perhaps given a love tap to encourage a roll over), it starts again.
Ps. He has now called in sick because he didn't sleep well. I'm partly to blame for this. Or am I? I think you brought it on yourself, buddy. Basically, it's your fault that I'm an evil, rude, pin poking, name yelling, biatchy wife who could use a little more sleep.
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