CRAVING SLEEP AND COUNTING SHEEP

When I was young and couldn't sleep I'd commence to count some sheep and after three or four jumped the fence I'd start to buzz and snore till way past dawn when I'd rise, rub my eyes, scratch any place I please to ease my itch, stretch, get up and have a cup or two of home-brew caffein. Then, wide awake, I'd be ready to take on a world that waits for me, the bright eyed guy of industry.

Now I'm old and more tired and the desired snooze I sure can use refuses to let me lose myself in sleep. Like I did when just a kid, again I resort to the sport of counting sheep. And as the numbers rise, to my surprise absurd herds of wooly beasts stampede at speed faster than I can calculate in my sleepy state.

As I lie in bed, my eyes bulging out of my head, praying to God for the nod to come, the leader of the pack, a big black took a giant leap and with a bah-bah-bah and a hoo-hee-hah landed on the mattress, next to me.

"Shut your eyes and go to sleep," the black sheep sighed. "I hope you're satisfied."

"Yes," I said with delight. I rolled over to my side, bid my dreams goodnight and fell asleep next to my friend, the big black sheep.