Tomorrow marks a very noteworthy event in the lives of Team WestEnders: Husband's and my 18th wedding anniversary. And while remaining committed to someone for this long is quite an accomplishment and worthy of celebration, blah blah blah...it's also not without its...challenges. For example, I recently began spending my nights in the guest room. No, no, don't worry--it's not due to the presence of dramatic conflict or upheaval in our relationship...weeeellll...yeah...actually, it kind of IS. Okay, let me explain: you see, Husband has always been what you might call a...not exactly "snorer"...the best I can describe it is...let's say "loud breather".
I know, it doesn't sound that bad, but trust me, when you're lying a foot away, and he's imitating some kind of, I don't know...long-distance runner, panting at the finish line of a demanding race...it tends to disrupt one's attempts at peaceful slumber...or at least MINE. Now, I'm sure this...deep respiration...is a fantastic skill for, say, meditating--but somehow in our otherwise silent room I just cannot force myself to tune it out. So I lie there, gritting my teeth, seething with frustration and escalating stress...until I finally give up, grab my pillow and huff out of there to seek quieter pastures...um "sleeping quarters".
And then, if this weren't trouble enough, before his mother's surgery he was feeling understandably anxious...which led to a certain amount of restlessness during the wee hours...causing him to flop around frequently as he changed positions...and thus shaking the entire bedframe. So basically, I was sharing space with a snuffling...grizzly bear-type creature, whose nocturnal cacophony and seismic rumblings combined to make our...cave...unlivable.
After a couple of weeks of this, when I had resigned myself to possibly being forever self-banished to the dungeon...right, "spare room", Husband finally asked what was going on. I proceeded to enlighten him regarding his nighttime behavior, which resulted in a puzzled expression and the question, "Didn't you used to be able to just poke me, and I'd turn over and quiet down?" (Ah, yes, the Good Old Days...how fondly I remember them...)
"Yeah...about that..." I replied, "You appear to have developed a resistance to my previously successful...Hibernation Management Techniques." (The added "Thanks for that, by the way," was unspoken, but totally implied...) Possessing that standard male problem-solving gene, he continued to brainstorm, "How about earplugs?" Demonstrating the female figure-it-out trait, I answered, "Tried several pairs. Those that are comfortable enough to actually wear, don't drown you out at ALL...and those that do mask the noise are too painful for me to use."
Therefore, temporarily stymied by this apparently-unsolvable dilemma, he moved on to something he actually could address: the nightly earthquakes. Again, being of the Y-Chromosome Club, he happily dug out tools to tighten the bolts on the wooden bedframe, and also moved the mattresses just a smidge further apart--so theoretically, motion won't transfer as easily from one to the other. (Clarification, in case you're confused: we have Twin mattresses, each being crafted of organic latex in personalized layers that we chose to match our individual preferences for firmness level--kind of like Sleep Number, but all-natural materials. Then they're shoved together to make a King-size. But the two halves are outfitted separately as well, because we have wildly different temperature needs...I know, we're soooo complicated, right? Ah, marriage...)
Furthermore, he also promised to try to roll over more...gently? Less violently? (Believe me, either one would be appreciated...) I expressed skepticism that he could actually control this, while conked out, but he informed me that he usually wakes up when he shifts. (See? He even shakes himself into consciousness, so I'm not crazy! Or...super-sensitive...or whatever...) So he thinks he should be able to mindfully avoid setting off the tidal waves we've been experiencing.
Yep, Operation Serene Snoozing has commenced...aaannnnnd we'll see how it goes. And that, folks, is today's tale of marital compromise...and the lesson of how sometimes it's necessary on even the smallest of issues. (Wait, on second thought, getting enough rest is actually a critical element for a happy life...as it directly relates to someone--ME--not becoming a sleep-deprived, grouchy pain-in-the-patootie.) Now, what do I want to commemorate 18 years of togetherness? Oh, that's easy: A NICE, LOOOOONG NAP! (zzzzzz......)