Christopher Hitchens Explains His Snoring Problem

Could there be anything more delightful than Carmel and the Monterey Peninsula at Thanksgiving? My cousins by marriage have a new place there, within easy reach of bird sanctuaries and wildlife refuges, and the light has to be experienced to be believed. Excited at the thought of an early start to see the frolicsome otters and seals, my wife and I retired early to the pullout bed in the open-plan living room, and awoke to dappled sunlight and the chatter of woodpeckers and squirrels. I could smell the coffee and taste, in anticipation, the bacon and eggs. But there was also a very slight something else hanging in the atmosphere...

"So you slept well?" remarked my male cousin by marriage, making it very slightly more a statement than a question. "Yes," I replied, as if not noticing this distinction, remembering to add politely, "And you?" "Oh, fine, fine," he said. "Until I had to get up and use the bathroom at about 3.00 A.M." And what, I wanted to know, had changed things at that stage? "Oh, nothing much," he responded, as a good host should. "Except that it was LIKE THE GREEN ZONE in here, and all over the house." Catching my slightly awkward look in response to this, my dear wife gave me a reassuring if somewhat weak smile and said, "Actually darling, the snores were rather loud this time."

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