I snore, apparently, and it's a bit of an issue - for Grumpy, naturally, not for me. There are nights where, after much prodding and requests to stop snoring, he will finally demand that I sleep in the spare room so he can have some peace.
When we were on holiday there were nights when my rolling thunder revue got him slightly hysterical as there was no place to which he could escape or banish me. Imagine my surprise - and confoundedness - when we got home and on our first night I was woken from a deep and much-needed sleep by a mad shaking of the shoulder and Grumpy asking, "Are you alive?! I couldn't tell if you were breathing!"
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