Remember when you were in high school and the worst fate you could imagine for your future was that one day you would become your parents?
I discovered a worse destiny.
Kent has not breathed out of his nose in 30 years. His childhood asthma and chronic allergies dissipated but his sinuses never cleared - or maybe he just never learned to breathe through his nose. But ever since I met him, he's been a mouth breather. I'm fully aware that for many of you that's an instant disqualification for dating - and it probably was for me too - but love always trumps deal breakers.
(I'm also aware that mouth breather is an insult lobbed at folks who are thick like molasses. I won't go there.)
So, while I fell inexplicably in love with the man, his mouth breathing annoyed me then and 15 years later it annoys me more. I punch him in his sleep, smother his head with pillows and decamp to other parts of the house when it becomes too obnoxious.
Which brings me to last night when I struggled to sleep with a sinus infection that's lasted two and a half years. One nostril completely blocked. The other very nearly. My only recourse: open my mouth wide like the Mississippi and breathe. That audible rasp that's disrupted my sleep for more than a decade and drives me insane? It was coming from me this time.
"My God, I've become my husband!" I thought.
It's kind of like someone saying you look like your dog.