The creeping specter of decrepitude

Snoring. The plague of the middle aged man, lost to his own sense of pride and self image, created to wreck his relationships and his sleep. A destructive, primary color cartoon of derision and bad jokes. Every four year old knows how to mimic snoring with gusto. It is a sitcom cliche for the overweight, the infirm and the witless dads. I am afflicted. It sucks.

More than anything else I would like it to go away. But like everything that I wish would spontaneously disappear in my futile, increasingly meaningless existence, it's removal would be expensive. My regressive punitive health care with it's high deductibles and fear of insolvency related punishments for accepting treatment keep me from doing anything until absolutely necessary. I have now given up and surrendered my check book to see if I have sleep apnea. I probably don't and instead have some kind of bargain basement Homer Simpson level comedic snoring, designed in some sub basement of hades by the universe to make me a buffoon.  It is yet another signpost of dissolution into my base elements. I have been sleeping in the spare room to give my poor wife have some kind of peace, and now I feel like the unwelcome relative that has become a burden.  I feel like a house guest that should have left some time ago.