Husband has sleep apnea. We determined this through (a) the fact that he snores and I sleep in another room ½ the night in order to get any rest, (b) I caught him not breathing a few times, and (c) a sleep study at the hospital.
Tonight he is going to do another sleep study so that he can get fitted for some super nose-enhancing device that will let he (and I) sleep better going forward. This particular sleep clinic will actually come to your home to do this, which is quite convenient.
This sounded like a terrific idea when we made the arrangements. But as I wait for the young “rest tech” to show up here at Casa Pammer, a few things occur to me:
1. I now have to find a pair of pajamas that covers my ever growing middle and is decent enough to walk around in front of a stranger in.
2. I am secretly worried he will start snooping around the house and have decided to hide my purse. I can’t do a damn thing about the china cabinet, but my purse and laptop are comin’ with me in the other room thankyouverymuch.
3. The Swimmy is completely obsessed with this strange person coming for “a sleepover to help Daddy stop snoring”. She will not go to sleep until she sees this person, uh, in person.
4. I can’t wait to see what the Pfluftagus does with said stranger in the house all night. But my guess is as long as she still gets to sleep in our bed, who gives a shit?
5. I haven’t gone to the grocery store in, oh, two weeks. If this guy wants a coke, I got that. Anything else – he’s shit out of luck. I am completely unprepared to play hostess tonight.
I’m totally exhausted today, but I’m wondering if I’ll sleep at all tonight with this dude in my house? Of course, the irony here is that Husband will probably sleep well for the first time in years.