Phantom of the Night

My Dearly Beloved is a very light sleeper.

I have previously explained our differences in sleeping habits. I sleep soundly and deeply.   So that I won’t be mistaken for a corpse, my engine purrs when I sleep– loudly, so DB frequently reminds me. Snoring is my emergency generator.

Noises rarely disturb me, but jostling the bed may, and I’ve been waking at suspiciously odd hours lately, like a few nights ago during a thunderboomer.  I thought perhaps my dog-mom instincts were kicking in.  Miss Piggy likes to hide from storms, so I pushed back the covers to get up and go help her find a good hidey hole.

“Where are you going?”  DB asked before my feet hit the floor.  There was no trace of sleep in his voice.

“To check on Miss Piggy.”

“She’s in our closet,” he informed me, a smug note to his voice.  “I’ve already taken care of her.  Can’t you hear her snoring in there?”  

No, I couldn’t hear her snoring, nor did I want to.  I don’t lie in bed and listen for sounds to obsess about.  Why should both of us do so?  I realized that it hadn’t been the thunder that awakened me; he sounded too guilty.  He’d been prowling around the house again.

Before I was able to drop back into Dreamsville, he was out of bed once more, searching for some imaginary moth wing-decibel noise.  Most people in search of disquietude might arm themselves with something like a baseball bat.  Not DB.

His weapon of choice is a pillow.

To his credit, he makes the bed every morning.  That way, he can collect the pillows he strategically placed during his ramblings to cover excesses like the blazing beams from electronics (i.e., the VCR button) and to smother deafening sounds (electric clock.)

“Why don’t you simply unplug the clock?” I asked him one night.  I mean, it’s not like it’s even set to the right time.  Nope.  That’s not the way he works.

I have removed my little bedside radio from the nightstand in order to save him a pillow.  (And to protect mine, lest he snatch it from beneath my head.) I would not be surprised to find one on the bathroom counter, covering his electric toothbrush.  That green dot on the handle that shows it’s charging must be a lighthouse beacon to Mr. Light Sleeper.

Wondering why he doesn’t simply close the door to shut out some of the distractions?  He wouldn’t dream of it.  He has to track the offending objects to their source and punish them for their misdeeds.

Last night DB got back into bed after one of his spectral searches.  None too carefully, I might add, for he woke me in the process.  He’d heard a noise.  I don’t mean a “someone is breaking in” sound.  Oh no. I’m talking a Was-that-a-leaf-dropping-off-that-loud-plant-of-yours cacophony.

“What time is it?”  I asked, sleepily.


Great.  I’d been asleep for about an hour.  I groaned and rolled over when he came back to bed.

“Don’t worry.  My golf clubs are safe in the garage.”

I didn’t respond.

“You’ve seen that commercial, haven’t you?” he asked in his let’s chat voice.

I haven’t seen the commercial and didn’t want to hear about it at 12:30 AM.

(And my dentist wonders why I grind my teeth at night.)

DB says not, but I’m wondering if the man has OCD (Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder.)   I certainly realize what I’m dealing with in my own situation:  PITA.

Pain In The Ass.

(BroJoe's beach moon from 3/11)

Did you hear about the great new restaurant on the moon?

The food is excellent, but there’s no atmosphere.


14 thoughts on “Phantom of the Night

  1. Sharon K

    OMG! DB needs to do what I did. Blackout lining on the drapes. And, run a humidifier at night. Originally, I got the humidifier for the winter because the heat was drying me to a crispy, croaky shell of a human. It makes the most fantastic noise machine. Doesn’t do that weird electronic wah-wah-wah that a “noise machine” does. It has the most satisfying “shhhhuuuuusssssshhhhh” sound. It drowns out all (husbands and pets) snoring and the Fed Ex planes that roar over the house (in certain weather/wind conditions) starting at 3:22 a.m. and take off every 7 minutes, 36 seconds. Not complaining about FedEx. :-))))

    1. Oddly, outside light doesn’t bother him. In fact, he doesn’t like to close the blinds. A ceiling fan drives him bonkers. I’ll ask him about humidifier–it might do double duty–help with my snoring. Not sure he’ll go for it though–he seems to like his seek and destroy approach.

  2. You should set up action-trip, night-lit cameras in the bedroom like the ones that NatGeo puts in the jungle when they want to catch the wild beast in its nocturnal ramblings. You could post them to YouTube and then embed them here. Maybe charge admission. Part of your new entrepreneurial effort in retirement.

    You’re welcome, lovey.

  3. Hahahaha! Fortunately hubby and I both share the same “no light at night” obsession. Since moving to the country, we’ve gotten even more obsessed, because it’s so dark outside, any light inside is that much more noticeable!

    I like Nance’s idea!

    1. My PITA man LOVES waking up to sunlight in his face, whereas I want a slower start to the day. I don’t even turn on the kitchen light to make coffee… no noise, thank you. HE comes out, clean-shaven, bright-eyed, with his iPhone blaring music from his pocket.

      Sigh. It’s a good thing he’s so darned cute.

    1. Good grief, how do you go to the bathroom without breaking your neck?! I need a little light! Then again, I was the little kid who found the thought of guardian angels and Jesus always being with me so scary that I pulled the covers up to my nose lest I accidentally be brushed with a stray feather. I liked to be able to see ’em coming so that I could take a dive toward the foot of the bed.

  4. Don’t you ever worry that he might put a pillow on your face to silence those “engine purrs?”
    Actually those white noise gadgets might drown out the weird noises and an eye mask should keep the light out. I use one and it really keeps those annoying night time flood lights ( computers,phones, etc) out of my face.

    1. No pillow over my face, but I can’t tell him how many times I’ve been awakened by a pair of hands trying to roll me over as if he was struggling with an unwieldy rug.

      I have an eye mask there for him, but on no… he much prefers his seek and destroy methods.

  5. My dearly beloved also walks around the house at night. Should I go into the kitchen for a drink of water he waits for me to pour the water and then speaks from the recliner, scaring the beejeezus out of me. To which his universal response is, “I live here as well, you know.”

  6. Ha! I love it. Didn’t you two go on a road trip one time and he complained that your banana was making too much noise? (Now my husband and I use that line when we’re driving someplace and his cola bottle is squeaking in the cup holder.)

  7. This was like a blast from the past… Sleeping with Joe was an adventure..he would wake up yelling–“get off the bed it’s taking off!!” Or he might poke me and say, “what is under the bed” Or my favorite when Cole was a baby, “Katybeth where is the baby.” He once smacked me with a shoe–to kill a VERY LARGE spider (so he say’s) and can you believe, he wondered why I refused to allow him to have a baseball bat in the bedroom..
    I’m sure you purr it the most genteel of Southern manners….
    I do miss our midnight chats though…we had some of our funniest moments at 1am in the morning…just saying….

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