Why having heightened senses can be a very, very bad thing

Part 1: Bionic Hearing

I don't know how animals live in our sensory polluted world. Domestic cats and dogs, with their heightened sense of sight, smell and hearing seem to thrive or maybe they have just learned to tolerate how dulled the human senses are and live with the assault of noise and smells as best they can.

I, on the other hand, am being driven up the wall into insomnia by Rizal's snoring. Apparently, I have been sleeping in oblivion, totally unaware of how earth-shattering his snores are until recently (or so he claims). I just think that his snoring has reached decibels of unbearable proportions. Either that or it's all the blob's fault for the hormonal imbalance that's causing my heightened sense of hearing. And this is how bad it gets: if Rizal should fall asleep before me, I can just as well grab my pillow and blanket and head to the couch. Not five minutes into his slumber, the beginning strains of a roadside electric drill racket will begin and I won't be able to sleep until at least 30 minutes later.

He starts off sometimes with a low stuttering, then building up to a wall-ricocheting series of lawnmower sputters. His favourite position right now is on his right, facing me. I have tried pushing him or rolling him over to his back or to his left. The racket doesn't diminish, or he rolls back to his right.

I have tried stuffing my ears with tissue. It cuts out the noise by probably one iota. I have tried counting sheep. I have tried breathing in rythmn to his snores; counting the seconds between his snores; thinking of anything other than his snores. I have placed one finger on one nostril (his, not mine) and held it there so it would cut down the noise; I get a little respite but at the risk of suffocation, he's always moved away or turned away, only to begin his medley right after. I have drummed my feet on the bed incessantly in frustration; he's too deep into slumber and snoring away to notice the mini earthquake ripping through the mattress. The only thing that works is moving myself onto the living room couch, making sure I close the bedroom door before I leave. If I don't, the snoring carries its way from our bedroom to the living room; it pings off our bare walls, navigates the corners and hurtles down the stairs and echoes into the dining area right into the living room where I'm sleeping on the couch.

When my bladder's so full towards the morning, usually an hour or two before my alarm goes off at 7am, wouldn't you know it but my body seems to enjoy playing this joke on me, I need to get up to pee or I would probably wet the bed. It happens every morning without fail. And when I've relieved that distended bladder, I return to bed and am serenaded by Rizal's snores. Needless to say, going back to sleep requires either a superhuman effort or that I get struck deaf right then and there.

I am at my wits' end.

I don't want to sleep on the living room couch for the rest of my 29 weeks, neither do I want to create cause for him to report me in for domestic abuse. "Officer, my wife pokes and prods me every night just because I snore. Just look at the bruises on my arms and chest." As it is, every night that I poke or roll him into (shortlived) submission, he never fails to accuse me of just that the next morning. How can I relegate him to the living room couch?

We have a second bedroom that is currently being used as a storeroom. It's quite empty and practically unfurnished save for the window fixtures and the nominal lighting and ceiling fan. It's going to remain unfurnished at the most until the end of this week. As of this morning I have decided that rather than subject either of us to sleeping on the couch for the remainder of this pregnancy and end up with severe back pains, getting another bed for the second room would be preferable. I am going bed shopping tonight. There are some boxes and portable plastic storage chests we have to clear out from the room or organize. Other than that, the room is ready to go; all we're lacking is a bed frame for the forlorn twin-sized mattress that is leaning against the wall. All it seems to be good for right now is as the cats' scratch pad if we fail to close the door and bar them entry into the room.

I just hope the bionic snores don't travel through walls; the second room is right next to our bedroom; I don't think my bionic ears can compete with equally bionic snores. On a more positive note, the wall that adjoins both the bedrooms is buffered by our gigantic wardrobe and filled to the brim with our, or mostly, my clothes.