No More Snooze Button
As a rule, I sleep soundly. I’m the sort of person who can – and does – fall asleep within two or three minutes of my head hitting the pillow. And nothing wakes me up until I’m ready to be awake. In college, I had an alarm clock that made a noise so ungodly that no one on the floor could sleep through it – except, of course, me. As a matter of fact, I had to relocate it within my room regularly in order to keep myself from turning it off in my sleep. One morning, I was late to a final exam and rushed out of my dorm room before I had a chance to realize that I had only hit the snooze button and not the off switch. I came back from my test to find that my room had been broken into…so that my suitemates could turn the darned thing off.
This morning, however, I found myself wide awake at three-thirty in the morning. The noise that awoke me? My husband’s snoring. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not criticizing. I’m sure if anyone else were in the house, he or she would think that Dan and I are competitive snorers, training for the day when Snoring finally becomes an Olympic sport.
No, it wasn’t the decibel level that disturbed me – it was the tiny whine that was accompanying his exhales. I thought it was the puppy, who sleeps next to our bed. I thought maybe he needed to go out. So I laid there, waiting for the squeaky wheel, so to speak, to get some of Dan’s grease. (I know, I know…a good wife would never pretend to be asleep in hopes that her husband would take care of a whining child. But it’s starting to get cold outside.) After a few minutes, though, I realized the whine was actually coming from him. Realizing he would not be waking up, I reached under my pillow and retrieved my phone, hoping the a few minutes of checking my emails and flipping through new/recycled Facebook entries would lull me back to sleep.
No such luck. After a good half an hour, I finally gave up and quietly left the bedroom. Forty-five minutes later, Dan woke up and let Truman out of his cage. He immediately ran for the office, sliding under the gate we have there (supposedly to keep the dogs in or out of the office) and jumping excitedly against my leg. Dan, bleary-eyed, appeared a few moments later. “What are you doing up?” he asked. You would think he would have noticed the complete lack of noise coming from my side of the bed, but he tells me that sometimes I’m so quiet he has to touch me to make sure I’m still alive.
Anytime he catches me playing video games when he thinks I should be doing something else, he gives me a look that suggests I am very bad. “Really?”
Once we had established that I didn’t get up early simply to feed my computer addiction, he went about his morning routine. I, on the other hand, decided that I might as well head to the gym.
That’s right, you read that correctly: I went and worked out. That makes eight visits to the gym in the last eleven days. However, now that I’ve written this, I’m wondering: is my apparent lack of need for extra sleep related to my newfound devotion to exercise? If so, is that supposed to be a good thing? Will I never hit a snooze button again?