This morning, as I kissed a sleeping Mike goodbye and got ready to leave for work, he murmured, "sometimes I feel like I'm sleeping in an airport." That was a reference to the fact that I got up twice in the middle of the night to pee and once to shoo away the 2 cats having loud sex directly outside our bedroom window. The only reason the cats bothered me is that I was awake (because I was having trouble sleeping) and the noise made it impossible for me to fall back asleep.
When he said that, I wanted to kill him. But I didn't. I thought mean thoughts to myself ("You did this to me, fucker!") and left. I mentioned to him a couple of hours ago that I wanted to talk to him about it and we had a little chat.
I explained that I am really uncomfortable. That I have a hard time finding a position that is restful. That I have hot flashes and sweat like a pig in the middle of the night. That there's pressure on my bladder and that I have to get up frequently to pee. That when he wants to snuggle and insists I sleep a certain way so he can spoon me or I can spoon him, I end up getting cricks in my neck or my limbs fall asleep. To summarize, I explained, if he's having a hard time sleeping because I'm tossing and turning, IMAGINE HOW I FEEL!
He totally got it and apologized. He said "it's a nice airport," which lightened the mood a bit. I think he'll think twice before making a comment like that again, even if he thinks it, and that's good enough for me.
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