Reassuring Snores

My downstairs neighbor snores in threes.

For several nights when we first moved in, my husband and I debated what the tri-sound was. Was it something sludgy moving through the pipes? A funky car alarm that went off in the middle of the night, every night? Or a dog barking and barking and barking?

We finally agreed that it was snoring. We have yet to discover if the perpetrator is male or female.

Last night, Lucy woke up a few times; she has the beginnings of a cold, which we are desperately trying to keep at bay and away from Jack.

Sidenote: When deciding to procreate, choose a partner whose family has a strong immune system collectively. I sidestepped this advice, marrying into a family full of ear infections, mystery diseases, and diabetes. This has caused, among other things, my kids to get the croup every time they have a cold. Flanagans also don't generally make the best patients (at least the ones I have had to nurse back to health). And unfortunately, Chatfields are a rather independent bunch, so they don't make the best caretakers. So, I guess the perfect pairing of parents would be a great immune system on one side and a tender bedside manner on the other, just in case.

Anyway, I was awake with Lucy last night and heard the dulcet tones of my neighbor's snoring. I drifted back to dreamland, rather surprised that the muted snoring had become a late-night lullaby instead of bringing my sleep to a grinding halt. Don't think I'm silly, but I sent some gratitude vibes to my neighbor--at that point, it didn't matter if the snores came from a boy or a girl or a dragon.

I wonder what it will be like if we ever become friends with our downstairs neighbors. Will I be thoughtless enough to mention the snoring, thus making them self-conscious about making sonic boom-like snores while they sleep? Perhaps I could assure them that their three-pronged snores are exceedingly charming and reassuring. Or maybe they will die from embarrassed sleep deprivation.

I hope we never meet them.