I want to start off by saying that I love my husband dearly. I’ve written often about how much, how deeply, and how completely I love him, every part of him, with every fiber of my being. That being said, I feel like it’s only fair to all of you that I confess: every night, I contemplate divorce. Maybe not divorce Proper, but certainly I spend more time than anyone should mapping out where a Murphy Bed would fit in this house, and constructing mother-in-law apartments in my head. Or in our case, Snore Isolation Chambers.

Here’s a sure-fire way to know when you are incompatible with your bedmates: when you are awakened by the gritty sound of a flawed sinus cavity, even while wearing earmuff-style nerd headphones that are blaring Cat Power. Did you get the part where I was ASLEEP? Awakened. From a dead sleep. While wearing headphones. Over half my head. These are not your average dainty little ear bud excuses for speakers. Real headphones, the kind that made sure I’d never sit with the cool kids even though I had a Walkman too.

I said bedmates, plural. There’s nothing saucy going on here folks, it’s just…his progeny. Sometimes I find myself staring at her in amazement at four in the morning, just overcome with a mixture of respect and revulsion that such an irritating, fingernails on the chalkboard sound can erupt from the face of a true angel.

It’s not their fault. I know this. That knowledge is what keeps my whacking confined to open handed nudges rather than light taps with a sledgehammer. It’s not that I’m resentful, and truly: I could not love them more. Really. But I am tired. Here’s the thing, and I’ve said this here before I’m sure: Once I’m up, it’s for the duration, whether that’s an hour or 2 hours or for the day. That’s just too long to be awake in the middle of the night, don’t you think? I’m not the creative type who jumps up to write when struck by inspiration at 3:00 a.m. (although this would be a much better post if I were). I’m the type to obtain a scrip for Ambien so that every few days I’m able to totally sack out for a whole night. And I am tired of that being the only way I can get longer than a three-hour stretch of sleep at a time. Did I say tired of taking them? Let me clarify. I’m tired of paying for them. And a leeetle tired of being sluggish sometimes the next day when I’ve not gotten my full 7 or 8 hours and the drugs are resistant to the coffee antidote I mainline every morning. I will never be tired of that glorious uninterrupted sleep.

And that’s where I’m stuck. Do I take a sleeping pill every night for the rest of my marriage, presumably the rest of my life? Do I build an attached apartment? A Murphy Bed? Which is cheaper, the apartment, the Murphy Bed, or the lifetime supply of Ambien?

Here are the things that do NOT work:

Breathe right strips
Sound machine next to my head
Headphones blaring special “sleep” mix
Coffee cruda, homeopathic
Any other homeopathic

Things that work:

Prescription sleep aids
Them sleeping on the floor of the living room (actually this only works for me)

Now it’s your turn to brainstorm, Internet. Go.