Every Thorn Has Its Rose

For the last week and a half, Peter's been in Iceland. Now, in the course of our relationship, 10 days apart isn't really that long. We had to do the long-distance thing very early in our dating and had a stretch of 14 months in which we only saw each other for a week. (I would not recommend this sort of courtship in general, but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do.) Ten days is nothing compared to that but I still miss him fiercely.

It's not that I'm overly dependant or unable to be alone. It's just that, for us, being together is better than being apart. We've mastered the art of being together but separate. We're quite companionable and can do different activities in the same room, co-existing in the same space, taking pleasure in each other's company while still relaxing in our own solitude. Peter is a fantastic calming influence on me. Just being around him, makes me relax and slow down and not worry so much. He's good for me and I'm good for him (at least I like to think that I am).

Text messages have been our sole method of communication during his trip. I've enjoyed reading about the giant skua that dive-bombed the workshop and the bus getting stuck in a river. I've delighted in telling him about our two big camogie wins (although we lost a disappointing and brutal match by a single point last night). But I really miss hearing his voice.

So, tomorrow, I will be waiting anxiously and excitedly at Dublin Airport for his arrival. (And if that poxy work stoppage delays his flight, I will....well, I don't know what I'll do but I will be most unhappy about it.) But, as much as I've missed him and as excited as I am for him to come home, I do have to admit that there is one up-side to Peter's being away.

I sleep SO well when he's gone. I'm not the world's greatest sleeper. I sleep lightly and am prone to waking up at any noise. Peter goes to bed well after I do and even though he's great at quietly sneaking into the room and getting ready in the dark, it still sometimes wakes me up. Or at least makes me conscious enough that I start to think about things like having to go to the bathroom.

Plus (and I have Peter's full permission to disclose this), Peter snores. And I don't mean any cute little cartoony snores. I mean he can work up into window-rattling, toe-curling, finger-nails-on-a-chalkboard, grating-wailing-oh-please-make-it-stop kind of snores. The sort that I can sometimes hear in the morning, when I'm downstairs, in the room furthest from our bedroomwhen all the doors between us are closed.

We considered getting him a sleep study when we were in the States but somehow never quite got around to it. The snoring isn't always THAT bad, but when it's bad, it's really, really bad. To be fair, he's usually pretty good about stopping when I (loudly) ask him to stop or when I aim a couple of sharp elbows at his ribs. A couple of months ago, I was exhausted and his snoring had woken me up several times in a few hours. I crawled over to his side of the bed, put my head on his pillow, and whispered in his ear "For the love of God, you are killing me. Please stop it with the snoring." He stopped immediately and when I related the story to him in the morning, he remembered hearing my request.

Some nights are better than others but some nights are pretty heinous. One particularly memorable night happened when we were living in Wheaton. He'd been snoring and I'd been begging him to stop with no results. I elbowed and when that didn't work, I had to resort to kicking. Finally, the snoring stopped and I had several blissful moments of silence. But then the snoring started again. So my harranguing started again and was met with a very irritated, "For fuck's sake, it's the goddamn dog!" The snoring stopped right quick, since the dog was startled awake. Peter still doesn't understand why I wasn't able to identify the snoring as coming from the right when he was on the left of me. I maintain that it was just loud snoring and I couldn't tell where it was coming from - it was just every where.

So, even though I've felt all lonely and empty inside, I've had nine glorious nights of many uninterrupted hours of sleep. It's amazing. I wake up feeling so rested. Sleeping well is about the only good thing that comes out of Peter's absence. It's a pretty big positive, but it's not enough to make up for all the negatives. The fact of the matter is that poor sleep and having to listen to snoring (which is absolutely my all-time most hated noise) is well-worth the benefits of being able to spend my time with Peter.