If you haven’t guessed by now, I love to take the ridiculous moments in my life and turn them into a (hopefully) humorous post for you, my dear readers. Okay, so every now and again I like to spout off my opinion on religion, share a recipe and my latest diet trend, or a bee status update, but I always seem to rotate back to humor.
Same goes for my viCARIously Speaking Facebook page. Occasionally, (and way more frequently than this page), I post a meme that either made me LOL or resonated enough that I felt it necessary to share.
Enter Monday’s post:
Recently, I have been making a solid attempt to work out more and drink less alcohol. Other than my pitcher of mermaid margaritas last Friday (yeah, yeah, I know), I have been going strong! In the past thirteen days, I have logged close to 20 fast paced miles and ten, pretty intense lift sessions.
All sans my celebratory/comforting/relaxing/rewarding/however-it-fits-the-bill glass of wine.
I bet I know what you are thinking… thirteen days? Big deal, Cari.
For me, it really kind of is a big deal.
I wouldn’t necessarily shove me into the ‘functioning alcoholic’ group, but there are times that I really need that drink to take the edge off. Up at 4:44 am. Hit the ground running at 6:15 am at work, dodging/diving/defending/researching and switching gears about 30 times before I leave for the day at 3:00 pm. The white-knuckle commute home in ridiculous downtown traffic. Full time job #2 (parenting and running a household) starting as soon as I walk in the door, cleaning/cooking/laundering/preparing/paying/counseling and consoling, until the littles are tucked into bed and it’s me time. Well, me and hubby time. ‘Cause that guy needs his attention too.
One would think at this point I would collapse into a coma until the alarm went off the next morning. Ah contraire mon cheri. This is the point in my day when my mind becomes the most active.
Anxious thoughts trip over one another. Sometimes, they are valid worries but most of the time not. I have tried everything: soak in an Epsom salt bath before bed, sex, chamomile tea, magnesium supplements, sex, Valerian Root, all of the above. My body thinks melatonin is a joke – it will help me fall asleep, but two hours later I am up and at ’em with a whole slew of new thoughts careening through my brain. Add my husband’s incessant snoring? When he has a head cold? Forget about it.
So yeah, not having that daily nightcap has been a big deal.
Back to last Monday… I posted the above on Facebook and within seconds my friend K texted me. Apparently, wanting to divorce/murder a snoring husband is a thing? She empathized then shared a link to an “anti-snoring solution”, saying her hubby’s snoring went from “wall shaking” to a “gentle purr”. Fucking sold.
Monday night. I go to bed with a smile on my face, knowing that tomorrow the Amazon Prime Fairies would be delivering the answer to all of my prayers. The middle of the night jabs and undercover kicks that I threw Marty’s way were even a little gentler. Look at that? A $10 contraption is even making me nicer.
Tuesday morning. I awake, pissy from lack of sleep but still comforted in the fact that help is on its way. I head into my day knowing that things will be made right later that evening.
Tuesday evening. I stalk around the house, peering out the window every few minutes for those fucking Amazon Prime Fairies. I verify my order status. It won’t be delivered until tomorrow. Shit. Amazon Prime Fairy Cocksuckers.
Wednesday morning. I am getting desperate. My eyes are bloodshot with bags the size of Texas from tossing and turning all night. I am at the end of my rope. My friend K texts to ask how the anti-snore device is working. I explain my predicament and she suggests I send an angry message to Amazon. I prepare it:
Dear Amazon Prime,
I rely on you, day in and day out, not only when doing my last minute Christmas shopping that should have been accomplished months prior, but when my impatient ass needs something. Like, yesterday. And I needed you, Amazon Prime. I have tossed and turned the past few nights in utter distress due to my husband’s chainsaw snoring episodes. I can’t think. I can’t comprehend even the simplest of tasks. I am brain dead. All I asked was to receive my purchase from you in a timely fashion since I paid for Prime, next-day delivery. You failed me. Shame on you, Amazon Prime. You used to be the bee’s knees, the cat’s meow, the king of impulse buying satisfaction. Now, you are nothing but a let down.
An exhausted, ex-fan of Prime
Wednesday afternoon. After adding a few colorful words for emphasis, I get ready to hit the “send” button on my angry email, but receive a notification: my package has been delivered. Hot dog!
Wednesday evening. I present Marty with his new gift:
Let the whining commence! “I don’t want to wear that.” “I won’t be able to sleep with that thing.” “Why!?” Seriously people, my husband sounded worse than that little shit Calloui. His bitching and moaning was so loud that Mackenzie had to come and investigate. Then she joined his plight: “Mommy, don’t make Daddy wear that. He won’t be able to breathe. Mommy, Daddy will die.”
From the look on my face, they must have realized that the anti-snore solution was the lesser of two evils. And boy, oh boy, were they right. One more night of no sleep and I was going to seriously lose my shit. They quietly dispersed and we all went to bed.
Mumbling some incoherent words under his breath, Marty inserted the device into nostrils and rolled over. In normal Marty fashion, his breathing slowed within minutes as he fell asleep. And wouldn’t you know…
It was a Christmas Miracle! A fucking Christmas Miracle! It worked!!! A $10 device was going to save my marriage and/or prevent jail time!
Granted, I was awoken several times throughout the night when the device had fallen out. A few seconds after shoving that fucker back into his face, though, my hubby fell into a peaceful state of rest. He looked like an angel. A quiet, sleeping angel.
Night number two was even better with the anti-snore solution. This morning, I woke up actually starting to like my husband again. After he brushed his teeth, of course.
I am currently researching ways to adhere the anti-snore device to his face for a straight eight hours. Duct tape would stick in his beard. Saran Wrap with holes cut out for his nose/mouth/eyes might work, but could get a little uncomfortable. Does anyone know how long super glue sticks to human skin?