The sleep curse has returned with a vengeance. I’m anywhere between three to five days before I start crashing toward the end of prime storm time, and coincidentally, that’s when it’s forecasted to dry up. Hurricane season has been pretty mellow so far, but we still have another month where we could see something rise up. I don’t think it will be as bad as last year, though.

Anyway, this is the second day I’ve been tired, and after two or three fragmented sleeps, I’m already racking up a sleep debt that’s going to take me nearly a week to climb out of. The problem is, I don’t expect to start sleeping better for a few days yet. 

I snorted myself awake a couple of times. I asked Becky if she does that, and she said that Kevin says she does when her mask slips, but obviously it’s not waking her up. I don’t see how people can sleep through their own snoring. It’s a loud sound reverberating in your head, almost like someone standing by your bed blowing a horn at you. How can that not wake you up?

It’s so unfair that she and Tom, and no doubt most people who snore, can sleep right through it. But any change in sound and I wake right up. She tells me I’ll adjust, but I don’t think she gets how adaptable I truly am. I don’t adapt to shit. 

I still haven’t been woken up by storms, but just the threat of knowing I could be puts stress on me. So I guess since there haven’t been outside sources recently, it has to use me as a weapon against my sleep—whatever is cursing it in the first place. Just when I was doing so much better, too.

The question is: what’s causing the snoring? I only do it occasionally, but still, I thought we weren’t supposed to do that with CPAPs. Maybe it slipped, I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s because I’m fat, because the pressure is down, because of allergies, or because of my collapsed nasal valves.