It's raining, it's pouring

...the old man's a'snoring.  Snoring.  Ugh. For several years my guy didn't really snore. One of the kajillion things I love about him.  Well, if he accidentally got on his back, he'd snore a little, but just touch him and he'd roll over.  Ya seriously gotta love a guy like that.

And then.

About a year or so ago.  What the heck is that awful noise?  Surely it's a fluke. After several nights of this, I decided it wasn't a fluke. Much as I didn't want to admit it, I now love a snorer.  BUT I, being ever-resourceful, have discovered a great coping method.  The TV!  Yes, the TV.  Now I realize having the TV in the bedroom isn't romantic, but I gotta tell ya, it works!  Once I am asleep, a jack-hammer wouldn't wake me, but GETTING to sleep?  Not with the snoring. And I don't think there's ever been even one instance where I actually went to bed before him.  So how do you fix that?

I'd trained myself to go to sleep with the TV on if necessary a long time ago to mask irregular noises such as a dripping faucet, traffic noise from living right on the highway, a ticking clock. Or in hotel rooms where the neighbors aren't always quiet and you can tell if someone's taking a shower 3 floors up. If you keep it just barely loud enough to hear the words, it masks a multitude of irregular sounds and soon, I am tra-la-la-ing through the clover in dreamland.   Or smacking the fire out of someone who really deserves it.  Or diving naked into the vat of icing at Krispy Kreme.  But I digress.

Unintended consequence, the Battle of the Remote continues past the living room.

Meh, I can live with that.  As long as I get my sleep.