Snoring

“Bitch” Chronicles

Day 6

Sometimes I snore.

I take that back. A lot of the time when I’m sleeping, I snore. Last night was no exception. Usually, however, I’ll roll over and move on to a regular sinus rhythm. Last night, I became aware that I was snoring up a storm and that my wife wasn’t exactly pleased. Rather than imperil my marriage, I chose to exit the bedroom and head for a couch in the east tower of our four story castle away from home.

I haven’t measured the room exactly, but it looks square, maybe roughly 15x20. I guess that makes it a rectangle. One side butts the house while the north and south sides look up and down the cottage village of Salvo. The east side peers out over the dunes and onto the busy Atlantic. There are exactly 14 windows that, if closed, are hopelessly fogged by sea spray. The windows are naturally trimmed, no paint at all, and the ceiling is made of what looks like cedar strips. The room has a comfy plush couch and a nice plush rocker.

So last night, I hauled myself up to the room and took my rest on the comfy couch covered only by a stray beach towel I scarfed-up from the main living area. Sometime around 5:30, the rising sun awakened me, and I was able to take in a delightful sunrise. Once the thrill was passed, I fell back asleep.

When I awakened at about 7 am, I opened all 14 windows and let the morning wind blast the room. I felt like so isolated in my tower. The wind banged against my face. It was almost as if I was sitting on the beach in the surf. Peace doesn’t happen this way very often.

I chose to spend my morning writing other legs of the chronicles all the while buffeted by the constant breeze.

After a bait run to the Fishin’Hole where I procured a cup of cup mullet 9lazy fisherman), a cup of night crawlers, and a box of squid, I headed out to join the rest of the gang on the beach at about noon. Everyone was there. The sun was shining and the wind was fresh out of the south. The surf, however, was still a bit on the intense side.

I eventually threw out two lines and began to catch my quota of negative one species (dogfish/shark). Later, I watched as Jake and Reena attempted to take the ocean kayak out once again. Their efforts failed the first time. The surf was simply much too rough. In fact, they came back defeated and collapsed on the sand. Eventually though, with the help of Andrea and Jacque, the kayak was pushed out beyond the angry breakers, and Jake and Reena paddled off. Andrea and Jacque had some difficulty fighting their way back to shore. Thank goodness they are both the strongest of swimmers.

The last of the beach drama was the mad rush of fishing just before the afternoon thunderstorm struck at 3:30. As I was about to pack, I had Sam and Trish reel in my two lines. I was confident that the slack line indicated more dog. I was right on Trish’s line, but Sam ended up reeling in a real fish…a sea bass of some sort, I think. Other that dogfish and “That-Which-Shall-Not-Be-Named, I’m not especially good at identifying fish.

The afternoon has passed with good measure, a relaxed pace. I’ve been sitting in my tower with the wind blowing through me while I listen to the crashing surf in the near distance. My wife took Callan, Ana, and Reena to Nag’s Head for some outlet shopping. They’ve just arrived back. Dinner’s about to go on the table-spaghetti and cheesy meatballs with nice fruit and vegetable salads along with garlic bread.

Later, perhaps, we’ll build a small fire on the bitch and hunt ghost crabs.