This morning I got up early. It wasn’t part of some time saving strategy (see last entry) – I was kicked out of bed by my boyfriend, Dave. The reason? Well, I hate to admit it but… Ugh… I am a snorer.
I snore for England. When I snore the emeffing windows rattle. Some nights, the neighbours think we are using an unlubricated chainsaw, to murder an asthmatic warthog. The sound of my snoring is not just unpleasant, it is a demonic wheezing and rattling combo, with a side-order of angry horse. I am oblivious to all this, because I sleep very soundly – the first time I know anything about it is when Dave screams, “Oh for F*CK’s SAKE!” and selfishly wakes me up.
I have tried to find cures, of course. Every night I wear Breathe Right snore -strips, that open my nostrils and makes me look like Deputy Dawg. I’ve taken pills and sprays, I’ve tried more pillows, less pillows, sleeping in funny positions and feeble attempts at self-hypnosis. I gave up smoking (albeit for a different reason), I was told that losing weight might help (I lost 60 pounds) but so far… NOTHING WORKS. I’m STILL SNORING. Even if I sleep in another room, my snoring can keep Dave awake.
I guess the next step will have to be a sleep-study and possibly a CPAP machine but frankly I don’t like that idea at all. It’s bad enough Dave having to see me in a snore-strip… It would be worse if he woke up every morning to find me looking like a tired, menopausal fighter-pilot. I think some people wear a sort of jaw brace, that makes you look stubborn, I suppose I could give that a try – but again it doesn’t sound very sexy. Mind you, I suppose Dave would be happy with any alternative to being kept awake by my current deafening orchestra of Satanic snuffling and snarling.
I wish I could come up with a Happy Ending to all of this but I can’t. Snoring sucks and I’m possibly going to be stuck with it until Dave cracks and beats me to death. *sigh*
OK, that’s enough of that, I’m going to have my bath now. Be good!