Serenity Now

I hate to generalize, it's beneath me, but I believe that everyone has talent, not just Susan Boyle. Not all of us go on national TV to display our gifts. Sadly, some of us remain unsung. Take me, for instance. I have a skill that could raise a few eyebrows. It doesn’t involve my voice or my funky-town dance moves. To give you an idea, picture me up on stage, dressed in slinky, see-thru attire, draped across something large, foamy and luxurious. My performance might not get a zillion hits on YouTube, but I guarantee snickering, cringing and an outcry of, “Oh, no, she didn’t.”

Since no one’s about to pony up a free makeover for my debut, I went out and freshened up on my own. I bought new glasses, expensive ones to boost the economy. In record time, I changed my look. Within seconds, I went from “relatively-hip” to “much-hipper-than-you.” The frames cost more than my first car, and despite the permanent dent in my nose, it was worth it. I didn’t stop at glasses, I kept going. My hair needed some love. For five dollars per follicle, I got myself a new cut that looks a lot like the previous cuts, only better. The stylish results impressed the nice folks I cornered on the street for their opinions. Once I promised to leave them alone, all ten of them agreed that I looked remarkably young. I ask you, what’s a little extra debt when you can walk out of a salon looking 21 again?

Sure, Susan Boyle might hit the high notes like an angel, but I bet she can’t… drum roll please… fall asleep in under a minute. Yes, put me on automatic snooze and I’m a genius. My head hits the pillow and I’m out. I could win awards for my mad abilities. My acceptance speech would go something like this:  I’d like to thank the Academy of Sleep for recognizing my life-long accomplishment. I’m so honored I could scream, but I might wake people in the audience, so I’ll keep it down. I owe it all to me. It would be misleading to thank anyone else, especially my father, a very tired man who hasn’t fallen asleep once in 87 years.

Of course, I’d have to hide my award, or sell it quickly on Ebay, once the Academy discovered a slight deception. I can fall asleep fast. But stay asleep? Well, that’s another matter. Here my level of mastery takes a sharp dip. The slightest noise or movement and I’m awake. I snort or drool or turn over and startle myself conscious. Or my bladder nudges me out of bed, usually when I’m burrowed down and cozier than a girl has a right to be in these troubled times.

On many occasions, a bad dream boots me out of slumber. Someone chases me or my teeth drop out of my mouth or I’m naked in the high school parking lot or I lose control of the car and go barreling off a cliff. Whatever the scenario, it pumps me full of adrenaline and I’m done for. If it’s not a nightmare that disturbs me, it’s my hubby, hobbling around the room, cursing loudly because his calf muscle seized up again.

No matter what wakes me, whether it’s myself or the fellow beside me, once I’m up, I can’t fall back to sleep. My mind starts flooding with worries. I try all sorts of tricks, deep breathing, staring at the ceiling, but nothing works. I’ve even tried counting sheep, but I can never decide what to do with them once they leap over the fence. It gets crowded in the pasture and they start bumping into each other and going “baaahhhhh” and there’s no way I can fall back to sleep with that racket.

Recently, I hit upon something new to count. It worked so well, I thought I’d share it with you. Feel free to thank me with gifts, or make a donation to the nearest Sleep Disorder Clinic in your community. They’re usually located next to Starbucks.

Rather than count sheep or backwards from 100, I count Seinfeld episodes. I’ve seen all of them, many times over. All I have to do is conjure up a few snippets of plot and I’m back on the sleepy-bye train. I don’t go season by season. It’s all fairly random:  Kramer forces Jerry to wear the puffy shirt on “Today.” Elaine tells Jerry when they were together, she faked it. George suffers humiliating shrinkage. The Soup Nazi won’t serve Jerry or Elaine. Yada yada yada. Serenity now! Kramer turns his apartment into the Merv Griffin show. The stinky valet ruins Jerry’s car. The early bird special. Top of the Muffin to You. Who can go the longest without… oh, don’t make me spell it out.

So, the next time you can’t fall asleep, or stay asleep, try counting Seinfeld. It’s cheaper than a sleeping pill. Side effects may include less drowsiness, no heartburn or flatulence, and a few giggles. Nine out of ten doctors recommend counting Seinfeld. What are you waiting for?