by Tracy Farr
I do not snore, but that’s just my opinion
I do not snore. Yes, there are times I make sounds like a Harley-Davidson Fat Boy doing 85 mph down the interstate, but I don’t consider that snoring. That’s wishful dreaming with sound effects.
Of course, nobody else in my family appreciates the roar of my straight pipes pumping out 110 decibels of pure awesomeness while I’m napping on the couch. Therefore, to appease them before they resort to stuffing a cat down my throat, I recently tried to muffle my pipes – maybe bring it down to a Honda hum – and this is the record of my attempt:
First Night, Attempt No. 1 – I believed that through sheer willpower alone, I could stop snoring just by thinking about it. So, starting a couple of hours before bedtime, I thought of nothing else except, “I will not snore. I will not snore. I will not snore. I wonder if it’s too late to order a pizza? I will not snore.” And I slowly drifted off to slumber land.
Results – I had a dream that I was cruising down the highway, my Harley pipes belching out massive amounts of thunder, when a giant June bug smacked me in the face. When I woke up, my wife smacked me again, just for good measure.
Advice from Julie – “If you really want to quit snoring, you could exercise 3-4 times a week, cut out sugar, and loose 20 lbs (not that you NEED to loose 20 lbs). Worked like a charm for me.”
Second Night, Attempt No. 2 – Since duct tape can fix anything, I stuck a sock in my mouth, then duct taped my mouth closed. I repeated the “I will not snore” mantra of the previous night, and eventually dozed off to sleep.
Results – I had a terrible dream that the mafia abducted, bound and gagged me, then threw me in the East River! Somehow I untied myself and made it back to the surface before running out of air. When I woke up, I wasn’t breathing (I guess the sock idea wasn’t all that smart), but my wife stopped jabbing me in the ribs long enough to help me rip the duct tape off my face. She looked mighty pleased to do it, too. Luckily, I still have my beard.
Question – If a man snores in the woods and his wife isn’t around to jab him in the ribs, did he really snore? Answer from Sherry, a fellow writer: “Given the radius that such noise can travel, yes!” Sherry lives in Beaumont because it’s just out of earshot of my snoring.
Third Night, Attempt No. 3 – The only thing left to try was not sleeping at all. I believed if I drank lots of coffee and didn’t worry about peeing like a horse for the next week and a half, I could stay awake all night and not snore, thus giving my wife a break from all that smacking and jabbing.
Mixed Results – I didn’t snore all night, but I fell asleep on the couch after lunch and had a nightmare that I was being interviewed by Oprah but couldn’t hear the questions because we were at a biker rally and I really needed to pee. When I woke up, there was a tape recorder on my chest with a note that said, “Hit play.” I pressed the button, listened, and thought, “If I ever do have a Harley, THAT’S what I want it to sound like!”
The following is an exchange between me and a few well-meaning friends.
JANICE: Have you ever gotten a sleep study? I sleep now that hubby has a C-pap machine.
ME: C-Pap! C-Pap nod off on couch! C-Pap's mouth open up! Hear Pap roar! Everybody run for cover!
CHRIS: Try Breathe Right Strips.
ME: Oh, I'm breathing right -- the problem is you can measure the volume in decibels!
RICHARD: I used to have sleep apnea, all gone with the weight loss. Never felt better!
ME: If I die from sleep apnea, I want my epitaph to read, “We’re sorry to see him pass, but maybe now we can get some sleep.”
ALICE: Bless your wife’s heart. She hasn’t slept in a week from all that snoring!
ME: Let's be honest – she hasn't slept in 25 years, and that's probably why she's a lot crankier than I am!
Conclusion – My study has decisively proven that I do not snore when I’m awake. But, in the interest of others, I shall follow Julie’s and Richard’s advice to exercise a bit and lose the excess tonnage. Until then, I might live longer if I slept out in a tent – somewhere deep in the woods, far away from elbows.
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