Snoring?

“Was I snoring?”

Glancing down at the Peaceful Questioner Woman, who’d been lying sprawled out half the length of the wooden bench, PP smiled. (Even though she was sure PQW couldn’t see her in the dark that was Utopia.)

“Nah,” PP answered. “Were you really asleep?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Do you usually snore?”
She sighed thinking about it. “My daughter says I do.”
”Well,” PP laughed. “That’s probably just your daughter.”
“Yeah, maybe.”


Later, PP asked DL if she snored. “No, but RQ does.”
“Yeah, so does my sis,” PP offered, trying to get her swimsuit untangled after pulling it off in the shower. Why oh why didn’t she just go buy a new suit instead of wearing two ancient falling apart ones on top of each other to keep her ass from showing?

Shopaphobia.





But that’s another blog.

This one is about snoring, which actually has nothing to do with swimming, but when has that stopped PP? After all, she did get the reference to her pitiful swimsuit apparel in. That counts, right?

“Have you heard your sis snore?” DL asked. Or PP imagined she did to keep the story going and back on track.
“Oh, yeah. And it’s the same as the woman in Utopia who complained about her daughter. My sis’ daughter also makes a point of pointing out her mom’s voluminous snoring. Much to my sis’ dismay. And denial. “I do NOT snore!”

But yet she does. And it’s nothing to be ashamed of, right?

Yet PQW seemed alarmed that she might have been snoring in Utopia. And granted this might have been a bit disconcerting. If she had and she had heard herself.

Isn’t that the beauty of snoring? You’re asleep so you can’t hear yourself?

PP doesn’t know. Since she doesn’t snore.

Or does she?

Good thing she doesn't have a daughter to let her know if she does. She'll have to leave that task to her substitute children.

Those cats will let her know, right?

Or not.