Count your blessings, dear, count your blessings. Odd the things that run through your head at night when someone is lying beside you softly snoring silver slivers. Usually it's negative. Some fear. About money. The future. That sort of thing. Not this time. This time I was thinking about what my mother used to say whenever I was disappointed about something. In this case, my inability to fall asleep.
So, there I was, counting my blessings instead of sheep, one by one as they leaped the wooden fence. Good health. Baa #1. Financial security. Baa #2. The love of a good woman. Baa #3. A brand new job promising interesting times. Baa #..... Wait! Hold that last one! Is that a blessing or a curse? A cure for chronic lightness or a twenty-five year sentence in the Twilight Zone? O.k., a mixed blessing then. But show me a pure, unadulterated blessing and I'll show you the spot where the leprechaun hid his pot of gold. Move along #4.
Eventually, mind and body grudgingly agreed to a mutual dissolution of the day. Alice's snores slipped from view and I began to drift into those luxurious gray shadows. Then the blast fetched me back. First the klaxon. Then the orange flashing light. Startled, I sat straight up in bed. A wonder I didn't wake Alice. Looked at the clock. 12:15? Didn't realize the hours would be a this uncivilized when I signed up. Not to mention the potential need for really awkward explanations. Get #4 back here. I wanna have a closer look.
YOU ARE READING
The Weird Insights of a Scobberlotcher
General FictionSeeing the light? Sounds alright. Scales falling from the eyes and all that. A little visit from a revelation. But sometimes the light of a revelation doesn't live up to its advance billing. Sometimes it's not an epiphany at all. The bright burst of...
