Boring Snoring

It's dark. The room has a wintry chill as the window is slightly opened. I am in my bed, under the feather down duvet, drowsing, sleeping maybe, maybe awake.
A voice says, "Snoring."
I ignore it, but before long I hear it again, "You're snoring."
"That cannot be. I am awake. I didn't hear anything."
The voice comes again, "Maybe it's the dog."
I turn around and try to sleep again.

This morning as I drive Arnfinn to the train station, he expains that he must have told me ten times. Embarrassing, but true. Sometimes I snore. Especially when I am very tired.

My mother snored. I would gently put my hand on her back, she would turn over and continue sleeping more peacefully. My father used to say he was happy to hear her snore, just to know she was sleeping well. After she passed away he was devastated and sad.

So I am trying to convince the love of my life that my snoring now and then means I am there. Better than not being there; that he would miss my occasional nightly disturbance, were I not there anymore.

Snoring is actually more popular than I had imagined. There is a "Snoring" Facebook page. There are several snoring games, like the one where various animals solve puzzles to wake up a sleeping elephant and thereby stop his noisy snore. There's a fairy tale about a snoring fairy. There are Youtube clips where you can hear examples of snoring.

There are many reasons for snoring and even more ideas for cures.

But Arnfinn is right. Even though he was being funny, the dogs snore. They kick their legs, whimper, and sometimes snore out loud. Just not last night.

Today's photo: Two of the children fast asleep, many moons ago.