So my son just completed another year of college and came “home” for a well-deserved vacation. I say “home” in quotes because Ann and I are still in temporary digs in Yonkers while we do the co-op shuffle trying to get work done in our real but as yet unoccupied apartment in NYC (we were warned about the hazards of co-op life where it seems everyone has a horror story; the problem is that you don’t know the story until you’re sucked into it and then it’s too late-you’ve entered the twilight zone).
So Jon came “home” last Sunday and after a nice dinner out (we don’t use the kitchen), we watched a movie and got ready for bed. Ann and I gave up on the Murphy bed and climbed onto our mattress and box spring on the floor. Jon got the sofa bed. We felt nice and cozy in our single room and I drifted off to sleep only to be awakened every 1/2 hour or so with shouts “Dad stop snoring!”
I was exhausted the next day. Sleep interrupted. I called Jon from the office, “I know I snore. Mom knows I snore. You know I snore. DO NOT WAKE ME UP AGAIN TO TELL ME I SNORE. Go to CVS and get ear plugs.”
The next evening was uneventful. I slept soundly even through my wife’s 4:45am alarm. When I awoke at 6:15, I had company. My 6’2 230lb baby was sleeping next to me. Certainly not the pajama-clad tot from yesteryear, but still my baby boy.
I couldn’t resist smelling his head and giving him a peck before getting up. I guess my snoring isn’t as bad as he moaned it was, or maybe the metal bar on the sofa bed is worse.
Who said you can never go back home?