Marriage is a beautiful union. It is filled with love and laughter. Occasionally, it includes the sound of your husband snoring, humorously called the death by dripping water. Yes, that delightful, rhythmic symphony of nasal vibrations that transforms peaceful nights into a battle for survival.

You’re finally nestled in your cozy bed, because the anxiety has subsided. You are just hitting REM…. then your husband’s snores crash over the tracks like a bullet train. It’s the kind of sound that would wake the dead—or at least make you wish you were. I sometimes wonder if I should start a snoring support group. We call it “Snooze No More.” Meetings would be held in the middle of the night. That’s when we’re all wide awake.

You know that infamous torture method where they drip water on your forehead until you lose your mind? Yeah, it’s basically the same as being next to a snoring husband. Each loud exhale is like a tiny water droplet, slowly but surely driving you to the brink of insanity. If I had a nickel every time I considered moving to the couch, I’d be rich. I’d have enough to hire a professional sleep expert. Alternatively, I’d hire a very good earplug company.

So, what’s a gal to do? You try to be stealthy. You shift positions like a ninja in the night. You hope to find a way to drown (him) er…out the sounds without waking him. You consider using earplugs or a white noise machine. Perhaps a recording of a soothing river could counteract the “snore-chestra” playing right next to you.

And then there’s the morning. You wake up with the grace of a zombie. You are bleary-eyed and disheveled, wondering if you survived a battle or just a night next to a freight train. Your husband, blissfully unaware, wakes up as if he’s just returned from a peaceful retreat. Meanwhile, you’re left calculating the hours of sleep lost, realizing you’re in desperate need of coffee—and perhaps an exorcist.

At the end of the day (or night), I wouldn’t trade my husband for the world. But if someone could figure out how to make snoring a little less death by drip and a bit more silent night, that’d be great. Until then, I’ll be here, navigating the wild, wild world of snore-filled nights, one droplet at a time.