Can't Sleep, Clown'll Eat Me

This has been happening more and more frequently, and I'm tired of it - I wake up somewhere in the middle of the night (1, 2, 3:00 am) and can't fall back asleep. Last night it was the lovely hour from 1:30 - 2:30. I guess I should be grateful it was only an hour - sometimes it's longer.

And this brings on the unflattering problem of sleep envy. As I lay there in bed not being able to sleep, I listen to Chad and the dog sleeping soundly, dreaming about sugarplums and fairies, and all other sorts of good things. And then every little creak in the house makes me think someone's breaking in, or something's about to catch fire or cave in on us. Then, worst of all, the snoring starts. Chad will claim that he doesn't snore, but I have assured him on more than one occasion that he does. He says it's only when he sleeps on his back. I know better than that. Sorry, honey, but you snore. Blame it on the position of your body, blame it on the weather, blame it on the lower altitude of sleeping on the ground floor, but whatever you say, you snore.

So I'm laying there having sleep envy, wondering why I can't sleep, thoughts about things going on this week racing through my head, and I start to hear Chad's breathing get heavier. The onset of snoring. I strategically position my appendages near his body so that when the full-on snoring commences, I can jerk him enough to wake him up and make it stop. Then the amateur snoring begins. For those of you unfamiliar with this process, amateur snoring is that half-hearted snoring that sounds like wind or some other kind of whistling. So I lay there listening to what sounds like a tiny cat trapped up Chad's nose, meowing at me every time he breathes in. Annoying, and warranting a few nudges, but not too bad. And then it progresses into professional snoring. We're playing with the big boys now. This is the snoring that sounds like there's a little farm tractor driving across the pillow. How does that NOT wake him up?! I slide my arm under his pillow and give a healthy push under his head. Then there is that awkward moment that interrupts the snore - The little snore yelling at you for interrupting it's groove. He smacks his lips, I nudge a few more times, and he rolls over - still half asleep. Ah. Now I can get some sleep. I get comfortable, stretch out, pull up the covers, close my eyes and hope for sweet surrender to my subconscious, when I hear this little clicking noise. I don't know if any of you have experienced this little phenomenon, but somewhere mid-inhale there's a little click in the nose. Like a flap being opened and closed. So I lay there some more listening to the maddeningly slow ticking of his internal clock, and resolve to advise Mollie to find out if someone snores before she considers marrying them.

But how do you tell, you ask? Sit someplace quiet (movie, concert, play, Sacrament Meeting) and listen to their breathing pattern. Half the time he will probably fall asleep in at least one of said events, and then it's really easy to tell if he snores. But I can always hear Chad breathe. I don't get that. I can be nearly imperceptible when I breathe - provided I don't have a sinus infection. There's no whistling, or breeze in the trees. Just sweet silence as my body quietly goes about the task of keeping me alive.

*Sigh* All I can say is, I better get some sleep tonight.