I usually go to bed first, then he follows an hour or so later:
- Kerplump goes the footstool on the recliner;
- Rattle-rattle go the dishes in the kitchen;
- Stomp Stomp Stomp go his feet on the stairs;
- Woosh goes the water in the bathroom;
- Fiddle fiddle fiddle go his hands inserting his earbuds into his ears;
- Wamph goes he, jumping into bed;
- Farts and burps (LOUD) are often next;
- Rustle rustle go the blankets;
- HHHHHHHHH goes his throat, great loud snores;
- Kick, kick, go his restless legs;
- HHHHHHH;
- Kick kick;
- Repeat 7-12.
That’s when I head for the guest room.
I usually go to bed last, but when I don’t, I can relate to #2, 3, 4, 6, 7, & 8! (And being driven out to the guest room by snoring.)
Oh dear god, have you considered separate sleeping quarters?
Yep, every night recently.
You know, I’m beginning to look at those lovely separate bedrooms in period BBC dramas with sweet longing.
I head for the couch. There is NO WAY they aren’t doing this on purpose.
I admit that sometimes having a queen-sized bed to myself is LUXURIOUS.
And some people wonder why I don’t mind living alone.