The Sleep Aid

Have you ever had one of those really, really long nights? One of those nights when it seems that building a miniature Eiffel Tower out of nothing but toothpicks and chewing gum might be easier than falling asleep? A night that, regardless of the reason for your insomnia (be it a lumpy bed, excessive Mountain Dew consumption, or some form of worrywart-ism), you lie in bed, tossing and turning until the wee hours of the morning? Yeah, I had one of those nights, last night.

For some people the solution to insomnia is simple - drag yourself out of your warm bed and find something to relieve your sleepless night (relief which can come in several forms such as a glass of warm milk, an over-the-counter sleep aid, or an early-morning shot of NyQuil – yuck). But sometimes relief from a sleepless night isn't quite so easy to find. Unfortunately for me, I have been known to suffer from a mild case of worrywart-ism. And like most worrywarts, I sometimes stress myself out to the point of insomnia. Let's face it, I'm trying to publish a cookbook – there is a lot to worry about. But last night's sleeplessness was not publication-induced, but rather poultry-induced.

You see, I live in a rather rural part of Maine – a place where having a couple of chickens roaming about your front yard isn't all that unusual. In fact, my family has about a half-dozen such birds meandering about the lawn, picking at bugs and sunning themselves. They really are quite enjoyable to watch and, with any luck, will one day produce some eggs that will justify the money spent on food, chicken scratch, and that heat lamp that keeps them all nice and warm. (They are still young chickens, after all, and aren't expected to produce eggs for several more months.)

Well, last night something set off the motion light outside my bedroom window, waking me up to see what appeared to be a chicken running around the driveway. Now, I'll spare you the details, but let me just say, what set off the motion light was not one of the chickens. They were all safe and sound in their palatial chicken coop. Unfortunately, however, confirming that all the chickens were safe and sound in their palatial chicken coop (and alleviating my worrywart-ism) did involve pulling myself from my warm bed, walking across the yard in my boxer shorts to the chicken coop, and counting the chickens at 2:00 in the morning. At which point I turned around, returned to my warm bed, and fell fast asleep, free of any stress or poultry-induced worrywart-ism. How's that for a sleep aid?