So, we have gone several nights now without the fan, and last
night my wife woke me up at 2 a.m. as she not-so-quietly extricated herself
from the covers, grabbed her pillow, and huffed her way out of the room. I stopped her to ask why she was leaving, and
she said that I was breathing heavy and it was keeping her awake. Breathing heavy? What does that even mean? I wasn’t snoring. I was breathing heavy. I mean, what do I do with that? Stop breathing?
I laughed at the absurdity of this, because the only reason
she heard me breathing heavy was that it was so quiet in the room. That’s right.
Ironically, the quiet that she so desperately craves is now causing her
angst. The fan that she has so much
hatred for was actually covering up these noises all of these years, but she
never gave it the respect or credit that it deserved. Now, I think she wants the fan back, but she
can’t bring herself to ask for it after she talked so much smack about it.
So, we shall both be uncomfortable. I will be holding my breath, and she will
have to hear me gasp for air every 30 seconds.
I guess now it will be the silence that divides us.