I Just Said I Love You. I Think.

I have once again been banished from my own bedroom, forced to drag a mattress out in the basement and sleep there all by my lonesome. This punishment is not due to some slight of communication betwixt my lovely wife and myself causing undue strife in our marriage, nor is it because of a burrito-induced Dutch oven incident. I am not, in fact, in any kind of trouble. Rather I have moved to the basement because of something I cannot control.

Apparently, when I'm sleeping, I click.

At first when my wife told me this, I was reasonably incredulous. I mean, why would I be clicking? I'm pretty sure I'm not a cyborg, so the odds of her hearing some kind of mechanical process within me is unlikely. (I say pretty sure because I did go through some medical enhancements while a secret agent, not all of which were fully disclosed to me. And no, they weren't those kind of enhancements. Dammit.) Still, my wife doesn't usually lie to me about anything other than her disappointment in prior medical enhancement choices, so I took her at her word but didn't worry much about it.



As time went on, this would recur, with her telling me that I had woken her up in the night with it. Finally, I actually woke myself up. For whatever reason, I start clicking at the back of my throat when I inhale. It's not like I'm snoring (although apparently I've picked that habit back up as well, backing the argument for my new sleeping arrangements). It's just one click as in inhale. Bizarre.

Well, at my wife's request I moved out so that she can at least get a few good nights of sleep. Hopefully I can figure out why it's happening without involving my doctor. Perhaps I have discovered a new type of hyper-efficient snoring, whereby I take a long drawn out snore and compress it into one big click, and just losing a few pounds will rid me of it. I guess it's possible, but it's not my favorite theory.

I prefer to think I'm talking in my sleep, and she just doesn't realize it because she doesn't speak Zulu.