Pshaw. No I don't.

Whenever I complain about my husband's snoring, he always comes at me with "well, so do you!" and I'm all "psht. whatever. puh-lease." I mean, everyone in my family knows there's NUTHing that can compare to the sonic booms that come out of my 94-year old grandma's mouth when she snores, but I. Do. Not. Snore. I may drool, but I don't snore.

Buuuuut, then something happened. After many sleepless nights reading about my very dangerous and pale lover, Edward Cullen, I fell immediately asleep last night - mouth wide open, dead tired. And I remember subconsciously that my body started doing something - that I was doing something that felt very ... good, shall we say? (one eye brow seductively raised) And that it was lulling me to sleep. It was almost hypnotic (mmmm.... yesssssss, drumming fingers together), whatever it was that I was doing.

So then, I woke up and my husband tells me, without missing a beat, that I was snoring. And as I was rolling over telling him I don't do that sort of thing, I realized, hmmm... while I have NEVER done this before, I was indeed snoring. And it drew a strange sense of comfort to me. Hard to describe. And I think I might try it again. I kinda like it (mwahahahaha!)