My husband has insomnia. He's suffered from it for several years, and I frequently nag him to either learn some relaxation techniques or see a doctor about it. He once did capitulate. When the military doctor who was giving him his annual physical for the Navy asked, "Is there anything else I should know about?" he said, "Yes, I can't sleep. I wake up three to four times a night for at least an hour at a time. I haven't slept through the night in five years." The doctor said, while busily filling out the forms to get the King out of his office and back to soldiering, "Well, good then. Have a nice day!" And you thought your health care was crappy.
So, last night the King came to bed carrying his iPod. I'm all for kinky marital fun, but I thought that was odd. He explained that he thought listening to music might help him get to sleep. Fine by me. So we shut off the light, whisper sweet nothings in each other's ears ("Get your foot off me." "What is wrong with this sheet? I don't have enough of it." "Heh, heh, I'll give you some sheet, baby." "What? Is that supposed to be like a double entendre? 'Cause it wasn't."), and I fall asleep.
Cut to this morning:
Me: Morning, baby. Did the iPod help you sleep last night?
Him [growling and rubbing his eyes]: No. It kept me up.
Me: Oh, I'm sorry. That sucks. What were you listening to.
Him: Metallica, mostly.
And that's the reason I'm the one in charge of reminding him that throwing lighter fluid onto a lit barbecue is a bad idea.