I’m a lucky woman.  I have a husband who has always supported my creative endeavors; he’s my biggest fan and offers meaningful, constructive criticism.  Sounds like a marriage made in heaven, right?  Well, let’s just say we have our moments.

“What’s this week’s column about?” he asked as he stood chopping Romaine lettuce onto his plate.

“I’m writing about night noises,” I replied as I watched him toss some olives into his salad.

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“Really, what’s that about?” he asked.

“Relax; it’s not what you think.  I’m going to write about the time you went on a business trip and at 2 a.m. the huge antique mirror over the downstairs fireplace crashed to the floor.  I knew we should have replaced the old cord on the back for something sturdier, but I loved the idea of keeping it original.  The sound was unbelievably loud and I was scared to death.”

“Another time when you were away, I heard what can only be described as two gunshots coming from downstairs.  This also occurred in the middle of the night and it took all the courage I had to make my way down the stairs to see what it was.  It was even worse going back upstairs after finding absolutely nothing amiss.  That was a sleepless night.  The next morning, weary and exhausted, I went down to the kitchen to make tea and when I opened the refrigerator the entire inside was coated in brown liquid.

 Two cans of Pepsi had burst and sprayed everything brown.  The cans lay open on their sides on the first shelf.  I breathed a sigh of relief for that one.  Something unusual always seems to happen when you’re away.”

“OH, I also intend to mention the snoring.”  Ken cleared his throat and swallowed as he continued to construct his salad.  “I can’t really blame you anymore since I now wake myself with my own snoring,” I confessed.  “Did I always snore or is it just getting louder?” I asked sheepishly.

“Yes you always snored, and yes, it’s getting louder.”

“Never mind,” I said. “Remember the time I kept trying to get you to stop snoring?  First I touched your foot with mine.  Just a little love tap so you would barely wake, but you kept snoring.  After a while I touched your arm hoping that you would turn over and stop snoring, but no dice.  It just kept coming, rhythmically torturing me.  Finally I began pushing you and at one point I didn’t even care if I pushed you off the bed.  I just needed you to stop snoring.  After the hardest final push, you finally said, “WHAT?”

“I need you to turn over because I can’t stand the snoring another second.  I need to sleep.”

“I’m not snoring.”

“Yes you are.  I’ve been tapping, touching, pushing and shoving you for almost an hour.”

“That’s you snoring and I’ve been trying to ignore it because I didn’t want to wake you,” he said.

“Are you serious?  How can I be snoring if I’ve been trying to get you to stop all night?”

This conversation was happening in pitch darkness and as I finished speaking, I heard another loud snore.

“Are you kidding me?  You’re snoring as I’m complaining to you about your snoring?”

“It’s not me!”

I put the lights on ready for a real knockdown, drag out fight.  I was going to get some sleep if it killed me…or him.  As the room filled with light we saw Coco sound asleep at the foot of the bed and snoring to her heart’s content.  She stretched, yawned and turned her back to us and continued her snoring.  I turned off the light and we settled back into bed.  Somehow it was okay if it was coming from Coco.  I can’t explain it.  That’s just the way it is.