I love to sleep. I always feel better when I wake up. Sleep is its own reward. Sleep is, well, wonderful!

I can sleep anywhere, anytime, and in any position. As a matter of fact I do sleep in any position except standing. And I’ve been close to sleep several times while standing. I’ve gone to sleep at a football game, although I wasn’t playing at the time.

A better sleeper you can’t find. My brother-in-law once blew a trumpet into my ear for five minutes and couldn’t wake me up.

My mother was a good sleeper too. When she worked, she worked hard. When she played, she played hard. When she sat down, she went to sleep. She lived to the age of 88, and I can’t recall her ever going to a movie. She always fell asleep. Said she didn’t want to waste her money that way.

My father was also a great sleeper. As a teenager, I made fun of him because he always fell asleep in his easy chair after supper. I have pictures of the gosh-awful expressions on my Daddy’s face while he slept and squirmed in his chair. He was more fun to watch than Lawrence Welk.

Our whole family would go to bed, leaving him in the glow of the TV set. He’d still be asleep along after the playing of The National Anthem, the end of the broadcast day, and the test pattern was turned off, leaving hissing snow on the TV screen.

Like all teenagers, I thought my parents were pretty dumb.

I thought it was strange that early morning, daybreak really, was my mother’s favorite time of day. She said she got more done before breakfast than all the rest of the day.

And about the dumbest thing they did, I thought, was fall asleep every time they sat down after supper. I swore I’d never get THAT old.

Well, I did. I now doze off anywhere, anytime. I watch most TV shows from a standing position. I’m careful to look like I’m just passing through the room. Or that I’m busy with a project, and that I just stepped in to see who done it, or what the temperature will be tomorrow.

I have become my parents!

I arise at daybreak. I’m a real morning person. I get more done before breakfast than in all the rest of the day. I go to movies, but I fall asleep. Fortunately I don’t snore sitting upright. At least I haven’t had any complaints yet.

But at home that’s another story. I get plenty of complaints about my sleeping habits at home.

"Wake up, you’re going to miss the best part."

"Wake up, you’re snoring so loud I can’t hear the TV."

"Wake up, your legs are jerking, and you’re going to kick over the coffee table."

And then when we get into bed, it’s more complaints about my sleeping.

"Stay awake until I get ready for bed. If you go to sleep before me, I can’t fall asleep for your snoring."

Then once all the pre-sleep jousting is over, and I’ve finally fallen into a deep, blissful sleep, I get a hard elbow in the ribs.

"Wake up, you’re keeping me awake."

"You used to like for me to keep you awake."

"That was a long time ago."

"You’re right about THAT!"

"Why don’t you go to the guest room?"

"Why don’t you?"

"I can’t sleep down there. You go. You can sleep anywhere."

"I don’t understand. I’m on my side; I’m not snoring. What can be keeping you awake?"

"It’s your breathing."

So half asleep, I trudge down the hallway, trip over the dog, step on the cat, and climb into the guest bed. Now I’m wide awake. What a wonderful opportunity to do some thinking.

So, I begin to think. My snoring isn’t keeping her awake. My jerking legs aren’t keeping her awake. I’m keeping strictly to my side of the bed, so my amorous intentions aren’t keeping her awake. I’ve stopped all that. So what’s the problem? My breathing is keeping her awake.

My BREATHING keeps her awake? Oh no, she’s going to KILL me. So now . . . for the first time in 71 years, I can’t sleep. I’m afraid to sleep!

Then I think: I’ll just let her kill me. I’d rather be dead than miss my sleep.