Sleepless nights

Q. Why do black widow spiders kill their males after mating?

A. To stop the snoring before it starts.

I watched a sitcom called Mike & Molly last night.  They are getting into a relationship which in today’s world is far different than holding off on kissing the guy until the third date.

Snoring, the great divide.  As they prepared for bed, Mike strapped on one of those extremely attractive-looking sleep apnea alien masks.  I suddenly felt camaraderie for Molly as she arose in the middle of a fretful night of tossing and turning.  I was not the only person who slept with Darth Vader.  The Reporter’s sleep machine heaves and sighs like a wind tunnel.  I’ve used wax moldable ear plugs, rubber ear plugs, and wads of who-knows-what as I’ve felt around on the bed stand in the dark with my palm for anything that remotely fits into a ear passage.  I’ve considered the pillow as a silencer (and not for me).  Last night as she made her way to the couch, Molly passed Mike’s holstered Chicago PD issued firearm.  I could see her look longingly at it. 

I have two questions about my Reporter.  Was his snoring really that bad that I encouraged him to get tested for sleep apnea?  And I’m so tired — I’ve already forgotten the other question.

I feel like Goldie Locks.  I have left booty impressions in every piece of furniture in my home that reclines.  By morning I have five beds to make up.  I’ve slept in bathtubs and am now been certified as ambidextrous — or is that amtridextrous.  I can refill a tub of water using only my toes.

The Reporter wakes up in the morning alert, stretching his arms to the ceiling, and chatting.  “Sleep okay?” he asks.

I look at him and gesture.  A nice gesture, for those who might think otherwise.  He tells me I ought to get checked out at the doctor’s.  He thinks I have an insomnia problem.

I can’t fully understand what’s he’s saying.  I haven’t removed my earplugs.