Four a.m. Conversation

By Susan Esther Barnes

Readers of my blog may recall that sometimes my husband snores, which keeps me awake, so I end up sleeping on the coach downstairs. You can read about it here and here.

He feels guilty about it, and on more than one occasion he has suggested that instead of going downstairs myself, I should send him out to go sleep on the couch instead. Below is the dialogue that ensued this morning around 4 o'clock, the first time I decided to take his advice:

Him: Snore, snore.

I reach over and try to get him to roll over.

Him: Snore, snore.

Again I try to get him to roll over. He very gently slaps my hand away, and says, "Cut it out."

I say, "Roll over please, you're snoring."

He responds grumpily, "I am not. I'm not even sleeping any more."

I say, "You will be soon, and you're snoring. Why don't you go sleep on the couch downstairs?"

He responds, in a shocked voice, "That's mean!"

I remind him, "You told me I should tell you to do that."

He retorts, "That's stupid. Don't do things I tell you to do that are stupid." Immediately he falls back asleep and starts to snore again.

If our relationship were different than it is, I suppose I would feel angry or betrayed. Instead, I think it's hysterical, and as I head downstairs to the couch, I can't wait to find out later what, if anything, he remembers of the conversation. Which, of course, turns out to be almost nothing.

Still, we both had a good laugh about it. And you can bet that some time, when he least expects it, he's going to ask me to do something, and I'm going to say, "That's stupid. And you told me not to do things you say that are stupid." It's our newest "inside joke."