Mr. Fairway & I have been married a good long while. Eons. Probably longer than some of you have been on God's green earth.
Let's just say I've lived with Hubby longer than I lived with my parents.
After watching the sun set on the marriages of so many of our friends & acquaintances over the years, Mr. F. & I have come to a tacit agreement, which pretty much holds our relationship together.
I don't criticize his snoring~too much~if he doesn't criticize my cooking. I'll do the marketing if he'll do the laundry. We'll back each other up when a situation requires the discipline of either and/or both of our chicas.
We're both pretty patient people...at least where marriage is concerned. We each contribute. Life is good, most of the time.
In recent days, however, I've had to lay down the law in my household. Mr. Fairway, who wakes up about 5:15 every morning to go to the gym, has taken to hittin' the hay early. Yup, sports fans, he's sometimes in bed by 9:30 p.m., which pretty much puts a crimp in my social life.
The Hubby's early-to-bed mentality of late also means that by the time I venture upstairs, around 11 or so, he's already way past REM sleep. I call this stage "The Rumble."
Yes, Mr. Fairway snores. But not the cute little middle-of-the-nite hiccups common to many men of middle years. When Mr. F. commits to something, he goes all-out. If you live in the Mid-Atlantic region & you've heard some rumbling recently, it's not an earthquake...it's Mr. Fairway getting in his Zzzzzzzzzzzz's.
And this is where the cast of "Beverly Hills, 90210" come in.
We have only one chica home for the whole of the Summer. Ella Numera Dos is even more of a night owl than her madre & she goes me one better...before she goes to sleep, she likes to watch a little retro-TV on her laptop.
Something about Jason Priestly's pompadour or Luke Perry's soulful glances helps to lull the child to sleep.
Our house is hot upstairs, even with the AC running full-bore. Well, this is DC in July, after all. We've taken to sleeping with the bedroom doors open, to help keep the air circulating. And therein lies the problem.
I'm a light sleeper & I've been surrounded by distractions of late. Sleeping alongside the San Andreas Fault, alone, is almost too much. Now I also must contend with the radioactive chipmunks down the hall.
Ella turns on her laptop, which emits a warm glow thru her open bedroom door. She pops in a "90210" DVD. The combo of the glowing screen & the chirpings of high-tone "Valley Speak," plus the Hubby's off-the-Richter Scale rumblings, are enough to drive a mom to drink.
Which is what I was doing a couple of nites ago. Watching the late news & quaffing a glass of Pinot Noir. Trying to put myself in a California state of mind.