oh oh the night comes down

Evidently, I snore.

I remember, when I was a kid, my mother would have to sleep with thick plugs wedged into the apertures of her ear canals to block out my father's snoring. Even though my parents' bedroom was one floor below mine, I could still hear his throaty sleep-grunts rattling the windows and echoing through the house.

Recently, I seem to have developed the same nocturnal caterwauling that kept my mother from enjoying an evening's rest. Only now the victim of my bedtime racket my poor spouse. Unfortunately for her, I sleep like a corpse. Many nights have found Mrs. P shaking and shoving my undisturbable carcass into a position that would realign my nasal passages and change my breathing pattern.... or cut off  my breathing, as the case may be. I have briefly stirred from heavy slumber to hear my wife's muffled sobs emerging from under her pillow. Other times, I have been jarred awake by the not-so-subtle screams of  "STOP THAT FUCKING SNORING!" My wife has always been very successful in getting her point across.

In a few weeks, I will be attending the first "work-related" conference in my nearly thirty years of employment. By chance, the conference — a two-day affair enlightening attendees on the power of social media — will take place in Orlando, Florida. As a matter of fact, it will be hosted by the Walt Disney World Resort. When the offer was made for me to attend, my boss suggested that I extend my stay and invite Mrs. P for the weekend following the conference. Everyone knows my affinity for Disney theme parks, so I sent a quick email to my wife just after I secured my travel arrangements with my employer.

That evening over dinner, we discussed the logistics of Mrs. P. joining me post-conference. She offered to drive her car while I flew on my company's dime, meet me in Orlando and we'd drive back together. Now, we live approximately 990 miles from Orlando and the thought of spending it in a car doesn't exactly thrill me — especially when I can make the trip in two hours on a plane that someone else is paying for. ("You used to like that trip!," my wife countered. Sure. Twenty years ago, when I was twenty years less cranky.) A few more scenarios were suggested, including one that involved my in-laws and a side trip to Miami. All were given the thumbs down and we decided that it would work out best for me to just go to the conference and come home. Quick, unobtrusive and I'd be back before you know it.

Mrs. P looked a little disappointed, but her expression soon changed to one of optimism.

"Well, at least I'll get a couple of good night's sleep.," she smiled.

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