Night Sounds

Apparently chronic sinus issues have turned me into a snorer. I don't notice that I snore. Unless my dear Flyboy were to let onto me that I snore, I would never ever have known it. He has snored for a very long time, and the few times that our grown-up family has shared a hotel room while traveling, the kids have teased him relentlessly. He says I don't snore loudly. I'm relieved to hear that. He snores like a chain saw in need of a tune-up - with snorts and starts. But I don't mind. In fact, I am oddly comforted by his snoring after all these years. It is proof that he is sleeping, and sleep is a very good thing.

I was sleeping peacefully the other night, when suddenly I heard a very small scratching noise. At first, in my stupor, I thought it was Flyboy trying to find the on switch to his heating pad, or perhaps the control for his side of our Sleep Number bed. But it was going on for far too long to be either of those noises. My next thought was a mouse scratching inside the wall, or God forbid, under the bed. I hate rodents. With. a. passion. I think I hate rodents more than God hates sin. I would rather dispatch a black widow spider than set up a mouse trap. It just gives me the heebie-jeebies. To the max.

I woke up just enough to realize that it was, indeed, Flyboy who was making the noise, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was doing. I rolled over and said, "Are you having a problem?"

I didn't know it until later, but yes, he was having a problem. His problem was me. I was snoring, and he was reaching into the under-bed-storage-drawer beneath his side of the bed to retrieve a pair of earplugs in the dark. I didn't even know he kept earplugs in there. Makes me wonder what else he's hiding down there. I may have to look.

Anyway, he just said, "I'm looking for my earplugs. I'm sorry, I thought I was being quiet. I can't believe you heard that."

What he thought about saying was, "Am I having a problem? Yes - you are snoring and keeping me awake." But he was far too considerate to wake me all the way up by guffawing at my notion that he had a problem when, in actuality, I was the problem.

Thank you, dear.

Besides, I wasn't snoring. I was purring, which defined by Webster means to "make a low continuous vibratory sound usually expressing contentment." Yes, that's it. I was just purring and I can't believe he heard that.