Darth Vader Husbands Nose Whistle In the Powder Room

It’s Not Darth Vader, It’s Just Your Husband’s Nose Whistle

“You underestimate the power of my facial features.”

 

I love my husband’s face. It’s unique and has strong features including a larger nose. He claims it as his northern Italian nose, and having always liked big noses, I enjoy it.

My problem lies in the fact that even when my husband is fast asleep, the nose is still awake, talking and causing me problems. I don’t think it’s the size alone, but perhaps there is a nostril circumference/dry air interaction at play or something, causing it to whistle far off lullabies all night long.

To my untrained ear, it sounds like everything BUT a nose whistle. Its output spans the spectrum from the smoothness of a Vienna choirboy to the raspy tone of Stevie Knicks using an inhaler, and this variety of sounds tricks me into thinking it is all sorts of things when I hear it in the night.

If you share a bed with a nose whistler, you may also have been awoken from your slumber to investigate any number of things only to find out that it was your husband’s nose flute all along. Some of my favorite incorrect guesses are:

  • My kids faintly calling out from down the hall
  • An iPad that my kids must have left on downstairs
  • An emergency vehicle siren in the distance
  • A feral cat
  • A Darth Vader ringtone
  • Basement tenant’s late night violin practice
  • Restless owls or mating wild animals outside
  • A heavy breathing intruder
  • Said intruder sliding furniture across the hardwood floors in search of our hidden wall safe (if we had one)

The biggest mystery to me is that the whistle throws its sound all over the house. I sit up in bed, look at him, and actively listen only to come up nose whistle negative as it mysteriously throws its sound into another room and sends me searching.

After my Columbo expedition turns up nothing, I usually return only to discover it was actually the nose whistle all along. The whistle usually continues to mock me as I lie back down to sleep.

I typically drift off pondering my morning revenge when I hear a distant “Mommmmmmeeeeee . . . Mommmmmmeeeeee” at regular intervals. I get up to listen but the hallway is silent. The nose whistle!

As I decide that a swift kick is my only recourse I realize something. It is MY freaking nose. My tiny button-like nose has turned on me and joined in the never-ending nighttime symphony. The whistle is contagious!

I get up and Google only to come up with excessive nose picking, syphilis and cocaine abuse being among the reasons for a persistent nose whistle. Seriously??? I certainly can’t seek help now and risk being judged.

I lie back down determined to keep my nose whistle in check. As I drift off I hear the furniture-moving intruder back at work downstairs. I’m not sure whose nose it is and ignore it, content in my acceptance of our stash of jewels and fur being gone in the morning.

 

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Pecked to Death by Chickens.com is Susan’s humor blog, though occasionally she’ll author a poignant post revealing her soft underbelly (euphemism AND literal description). Susan also helps other bloggers get featured on the websites they aspire to, via her blog resource site BeyondYourBlog.com. Features on BlogHer, Blunt Moms, Bonbon Break, and In the Powder Room help feed her attention seeking behavior.

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  1. says

    Oh my Susan, you read my mind. I was going to write a post myself about my own “nighttime symphony” with my husband. Though he isn’t a whistler, he has a loud snore and grinds his teeth. I too have my own nose issues at night but have turned to breathe right strips – they have helped me a lot but my husband refuses to wear them.

  2. says

    I am grateful that my husband doesn’t have a whistle blower stuck in his nose and even more grateful that he doesn’t snore. Our son on the other hand… I am not exaggerating when I say that we hear him two rooms away with both doors closed!

    • says

      I think we lucked out with the no snoring this with our husbands. I would have to Lucy and Ricky it to separate beds (and separate rooms) if that was the case! Make sure your son’s wife is warned when she gets older. Maybe a disclosure of some kind will be in order.

  3. says

    Oh my! I laughed out loud at “nose flute” Too funny. I have to say one of the perks to being single is having the bed all to myself and no nose symphonies or robbers or feral cats in my bedroom. ha!

    • says

      Oh, it is a definite perk!! There should be some sort of night noise disclaimer issued before marriage. I envy the squirming you can do as you fall asleep without annoying anyone too. If I could I would squirm and itch for 30 minutes, but as it is, I have to limit my annoying pre-sleep behaviors for the benefit of ‘others’.

  4. says

    I know exactly what you mean about the nose “throwing the sound.” I always think it’s one of the cats at the door when my husband’s nose whistles. (I’m told mine clicks.)

  5. says

    Since this is a post about noses, I’ll tell you I about spit coffee through my nose reading this. I can relate – sorta. My hubby is a monster snorer. My cat used to curl up on top of his head…I think he thought it was purring.

    Love this! Great job, friend!

  6. says

    If my husband is lying on his back he’s prone to creating a nasal symphony and it drives me batty. All I have to do is whine, “Hon. Roll over.” and he rolls onto his side. I realize this makes it seem like he’s a dog but when I’m about five minutes away from shut eye I don’t care. LOL

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