Until Snores Do Us Part

Back in the early days of our relationship, my husband and I used to ask each other what sort of transgressions would end our relationship. These questions were half serious- it's pretty important to know each other's boundaries, and what better way to find out than to ask? They were also half joke, because that's what they always devolved into. By now, we haven't asked this question in a long time. I'd like to think this is because we know each other very well and have matured past such insecurities. But it may just be that we don't ask because we don't really want the answer any more. So when, for the first time in EONS I was asked what it would take for me to shut the door in his face, I was surprised to find that I have an answer.

A definite, specific line, the crossing of which our relationship could not survive. 

I should preface this. I love my husband. A lot. I strive to demonstrate this every day, and this takes effort since I'm prone to falling into my books and tuning out the rest of the world. But I am a very light sleeper, which makes us hopelessly incompatible in one aspect:

He is not.

Not only is he not a light sleeper, he also snores. As time passes, the snoring has increased, and the depth of his sleep cycles has come to resemble the Mariana Trench. You can put your elbow in his side and use it as a lever to roll him onto his side without his ever gaining consciousness.

image courtesy of wisequaks.org

Technically, I have lost more sleep to my husband than to our son. 

Add to this a personality that is generally capable of keeping myself awake thinking of how tired I am, and you have a type-A recipe for generalized crabbiness.

So tonight, we're talking about how my hubby tends to start out being irritated by something, but it eventually turns into acceptance, which turns into missing said thing when it's gone, and he asks if I do the same thing. This is the point that I have the revelation of this huge personality difference that probably has caused some damage over time, given that neither of us pinpointed it before tonight. When something irritates me, it doesn't fade into the background. It is amplified. Each and every day. The more I think about whatever is bothering me, the bigger it becomes. Molehills become mountains every day. Frankly, it's a wonder I haven't been abandoned as a lost cause sometimes. It's definitely not an aspect of myself that I'm proud of, but I do my best to rein it in. But his question lead me to this statement, and a response that proves we'll probably be okay:

"I'm here until I hate snoring more than I love you."

"I'm here until you kick me out." (Followed by loud fake snoring.)