Monday, October 4, 2010
During this morning’s frenzy to get the kids up and off to school, I happened to see my son sprawled on the couch, arm folded over his eyes, snoring. As in ‘sawing a log’. He had some volume going there. Pretty impressive.
Now this might not seem abnormal, except for the fact that not ten seconds earlier, he was bouncing around like a super-ball on Red Bull. This kid was NOT asleep.
So, intelligent mother that I am, I asked, “What are you doing?”
He sat up grinning and said, “I just wanted to know what it felt like to snore.”
That cracked me up.
And then I stopped and thought about it. You know what? I don’t know what it feels like either. I don’t think any of us really know.
Yes, we may snore. Yes, we may live in the same house with some one who snores (or if you’re lucky enough – multiple some ones), but we really don’t know what it feels like. After all, the second you wake up, the snoring is over.
Is it a belly tingling rumble that shakes walls? An ear piercing mosquito whine? A painful, racking buzz? A sputtering death rattle? What does that feel like?
All right, all right. I know I’m going waaaaaaaaay out in left field here, but that’s what writers do. We try to imagine everything—snoring included—and then translate the sights, sounds, sensations and smells into the written word.
So, I have a question for you. Do you REALLY know what it feels like to snore?