i don’t want to be dramatic, but i’m contemplating divorcing my husband. this is less harsh than my earlier word choice, which was “murder.”
he won’t stop snoring.
he is literally snoring into my left ear. it’s like chinese water torture with a touch of salt water washing up onto your newly shaven legs.
in the past thirty minutes, before i contemplated murder and then the less illegal route of divorce, i mulled over the following ideas:
sticking a dirty sock up his nose
sticking a tampon up his nose
slapping him as hard as i can across the cheek
getting so close to his face that the tips of our noses are touching, and then screaming as loud as i can
pouring gasoline over him and lighting a match… no, wait, that came later.
putting on real housewives until the sounds of six women talking about botox and louise vuitton gave him so many satanic nightmares that he woke up in a cold sweat and refused to sleep for days
finding the stray cat that sometimes sits outside our apartment and placing it on his face
nudging him to the right of the bed every couple of minutes until he falls to his death
but the thing is, prison is no good for me. if i don’t have access to tools so that i can pluck my face on a daily basis, i’ll end up looking like harry from harry and the hendersons. how will i ever find a girlfriend looking like that?
actually, i probably won’t divorce him either. i like him when he’s awake. but right now, he sounds like chewbacca. is this love? is this what i’ve waited for? there’s a love song in there, somewhere.