“I’m Gonna Kill Him!”

images copy

Friends held a celebration for our 25th anniversary.  That’s where our middle daughter was tempted to throttle her father.

Now, Kim has a loving soul and generous nature, most of the time.  But the morning after the festivities was an exception.  Here’s what happened:

The venue selected for the celebration was not far from where we’d lived a few years earlier, before moving across the country.  It was close to family and friends. This meant travel for us, and staying in a motel.

One of the event organizers owned a ranch and had reserved their community center for the celebration.  The country setting was picturesque, in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, but nearby accommodation was limited.


On the day of the event, Kim had found a ride to the community center.  She didn’t have a car at the time.  Her warm-hearted mother, Judi, invited her to share our motel room.  After all, her mother pointed out, the room had two double beds and we only needed one.  Ah, well!  Scratch that other nocturnal celebratory thought.


We’d just returned from our own anniversary celebration: two weeks of wandering aimlessly through Europe – with no reservations and no agenda, except our return flight.  Highly recommended.

The celebration began in the afternoon.  It extended long into the night. Entertainment included performances by a convincing impersonator of Elvis Presley and Roy Orbison.  Both were Judi’s favorites.


Our three daughters enlivened things with a decidedly accurate version of their father’s sterner moments, sung to the tune of “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”.  That is to say, my largely unsuccessful attempts at maintaining discipline while the three were growing up.

Short version of a long evening:  we retired late (as in: early the next morning).  We were exhausted, a bit tipsy of course, and thoroughly celebrated by a wonderful collection of family and friends.

Morning came much too early.

My first conscious memories were of Judi laughing as she returned from the bathroom.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, barely awake.

“When I woke up,” she said, explaining her hilarity.  “Kim wasn’t in the other bed.”

That jolted me wide awake. Judi’s amusement was confusing.

“Do you think she’s all right?” I asked, concerned but not alarmed.  Kim’s an adult, I thought.  She knows how to look after herself.  Still . . . where could she be?

“I found her,” Judi said still chuckling.

“Huh?” I said.  “What’s this all about?  Where is she?”

“In the bathtub,” Judi replied.  “She was sleeping there. She wrapped herself in blankets and covered her head with pillows.


“I woke her when I went into the bathroom,” she added.  “Kim said you were snoring so loudly you kept her awake most of the night. That’s why she went into the bathroom and closed the door.  Do you know what she said to me?”

“I don’t think so,” I said, confused but relieved she’d been located.

“Well,” said Judi.  “The very first thing your daughter said to me was, ‘I’m gonna kill him! So help me, I’m gonna kill him!’

She added: “I think you’d better have a word with your daughter, but later.”

It seemed, at that moment, Kim was in no mood for conversation.


“I’m Gonna Kill Him!” is Copyright 2014 by James Osborne  All Rights Reserved


This story has a serious side.  Severe snoring is a symptom of sleep apnea.  Most of us are unaware that sleep apnea is a serious condition that can be fatal.  Recent medical studies reveal that up to 80 percent of those once thought to have died in their sleep were in fact victims of sleep apnea, or heart attacks related to sleep apnea.  There is also some evidence that snoring and sleep apnea may be related to certain foods, particularly those containing gluten.  

One thought on ““I’m Gonna Kill Him!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.