sawing logs

So when I was just a wee one, my tonsils seemed to grow exponentially quicker than the rest of me. When I'd open my mouth for a doctor or dentist, the assessment was generally unanimous: "HOLY CROW!" Apparently they were the "size of apples!" I think that possibly the best part of having tonsils that clog up your head is the fact that you SNORE LIKE AN OLD MAN. My family could hear me sawing logs in any part of the house. And even though my loud snorts would shake me out of slumber at times, this didn't bug me too much until my tonsils became ginormous germ catchers. It's like there was a glowing VACANCY hanging on my tonsils, inviting every homeless germ in. I was slammed with strep throat every other week, prompting the doctor to pronounce an extraction.

And so the apple tonsils (and my adenoids, whatever they are) were promptly removed, along with the audible notice that I was asleep. And when I took my first drink of water following said procedure, the water skipped my esophagus and went out my nose. So I relearned to swallow and rejoiced in my strep free throat.

But I kind of missed the snoring.

Never fear - the husband informs me that his wife has a second career (assuming I had a first one to begin with) as a lumberjack. Apparently the snores are back. And because I can't blame this on my tonsils, I'm stuck either accepting that my ever growing mid region is pressing down on my breathing abilities or perhaps the ever present congestion is my head has something to do with it.

In any case, the husband is gracious enough to pretend that he can sleep through it.

And I'm stuck wishing that I could at least do the drinking trick.