Snorer

I snore.

Since I’m asleep when I do it, I have maintained offended denial until recently, when Sam provided proof after recording me on his phone.

I had always thought of myself as sleeping soundlessly, like an angel or female lead in a Lifetime movie. But the fact is, I have a short upper lip, so my mouth only closes when I intentionally clamp it shut. Hence, I wake up most mornings Saharan-mouthed, with dim memories of Sam poking at me and hissing turn over.

This is unfortunate, but what can I do? I’m asleep! Not only am I not conscious, in addition to my short upper lip, I have a deviated septum! And if you’re going to suggest I get the deviated septum fixed, I would, except that I’m scared and don’t want to.

But maybe it’s some kind of progress that I woke up this morning, dry-mouthed and alone, and instead of pretending nothing happened, I’m acknowledging my shameful secret in a very public apology to Sam and Charlie, who are sleeping peacefully in distant rooms of our thick-walled house, and have so far managed to love me anyway.