Why I Enjoy Seeing My Husband Gently Snoring
There are several reasons why I enjoy seeing my husband gently snoring in the chair in front of our blazing woodstove.
#1 He deserves the rest. My husband’s a hard-working guy who at 74 (nearly 75) is still project director of a small non-profit to which he contributes considerable skills and, yes, energy and ideas four days a week. When not working, he still takes phone calls, reads emails and dozes from time to time. To me, it’s pretty sweet.
I admit I come from a family who dozed — mainly the males. I can recall my father dropping off in the middle of a party that my mother (who never dozed) was hosting. No one at the party seemed to mind. Friends or family might exchange knowing looks — that’s Carl. Now my brother follows suit, frequently dozing during a conversation. I find it more comical than irritating. Maybe he has some sleep disorder but it doesn’t seem to seriously harm him. And again, those that know him well exchange knowing glances — that’s Andy.
And there are other reasons.
#2 He’s there — not off working on one of his many projects . For years, I complained about not getting enough family time or vacations. Actually, I still complain. My husband used to work in a government job with paid holidays and vacation time he had to use or lose — so we vacationed a lot. Now he works for a non-profit that doesn’t offer those perks. He could take off but he’s not compelled to and usually doesn’t. We occasionally go on busman’s holidays. Know what that is? Trips to places where he ‘s supervising a project and I’m enjoying our little cabin or nice hotel room or exploring the area — by myself.
To his credit, my husband’s jobs take him to interesting places — mostly national parks. Ever visit Terlingua, TX? It’s a tiny rustic town next to Big Bend National Park. Or Indian Lodge, a 1930’s CCC inn in west Texas next to Fort Davis National Historical Site. Or how about Ajo, AZ, a cute little mining town by Organ Pipe National Monument in the furthest south part of that state. I’ve enjoyed them all. But, as I recently mentioned to my husband, it’s not the same as 10 days in Paris.
#3 — As long as I can hear him breathe, I know he’s alive. Almost every day, I glance through the local obits and see familiar faces or recognize names. Often the deceased are our age, give or take a few years. As the founder of Viking Cruises points out, time is our most precious commodity and, as we age, it becomes more valuable by the day. That’s why the simple presence of my husband is a gift.
When he’s awake we do crosswords, cook together, garden or take walks, but I’m really okay with him dozing.
