Things are getting a little fraught in the bedroom department. All is not well. Mouths are pursed, harumphing is audible and there is an issue in our marriage which is currently ring fenced from discussion in much the same way the current NHS budget is ring fenced from budget cuts (that is to say we just don’t mention the subject directly and hope no-one will notice).
In the red corner is me. In my view my husband is a ridiculously light sleeper who awakens at the brush of a baby moth’s wingbeat half a mile away or at the merest glimmer of refracted light from the Arctic Aurora Borealis several thousand miles north.
In the blue corner is my husband who has the temerity to say he can’t sleep because I snore.
Now I ask any reader of this blog, does the fairy footed, sylph-like wisp of a thing that I am strike you as the sort of person who may snore? Clearly my husband is being slightly overly dramatic in likening my nightly fluttering murmers as reminiscent of an African warthogs mating call?
Nevertheless in light of my beloved’s alarming eye bags, grey pallor and the increasingly evil looks he is shooting at me as I awaken refreshed from a full 8 hours sleep, I am resigned to visiting the chemist to purchase some night time nasal strips in the hopes that these will mollify the sleep deprived grumpy one, at least until the next nocturnal insect dares fly within a mile radius.