As a missionary in Chile, I once slept through the neighbors being carted off to jail in the night. Of COURSE we were doing companionship exchanges with the mission president's daughters and of COURSE everyone in the apartment (5 other people) were talking loudly, there were sirens and yelling. And all the while I slept, blissfully unaware. I also slept through my share of tremors, but that's another story for another day.
In 18 months of marriage, I have apparently lost my ability to sleep through anything. Mr. H-B sleeps through everything. I, on the other hand, wake up whenever he rolls over, despite owning a bed that purportedly allows you to drop a bowling ball on one side while balancing full glasses of red wine on the other side*. I also wake up when the neighbor's alarm goes off, when the heat kicks on, when the vaporizer runs out of water, you get the idea.
When we first got married, I thought my lack of sleep was because someone kept stealing the covers and throwing them on the floor. Hint: it wasn't me and it wasn't Greta. We solved that problem by jettisoning our bedspread and flat sheet. We each have our own down blanket. Problem 95% solved.
Some may say it's not very romantic. To those critics, I say: Is it very romantic to be running on four hours of sleep? Have you seen me when I'm sleep-deprived? It ain't pretty. And ain't no romance happening when we're about to murder each other. It seems a fair trade-off.
I suspect that my first full night of sleep won't come until we move to a house in the middle of the country with no neighbors. But probably not even then.
*Note: We have not tried this, although I am intrigued by the idea. Unfortunately, we do not own a bowling ball. Or red wine.