Insomniaphobia

"George," Betty watched her husband stretch, yawn, and push himself off the couch. "Why don't you go to bed? You look awfully tired, and you haven't been to bed in almost two days."

He sighed, staggered to the picture window, and opened the curtains. "Going to bed won't do any good." He turned to face his wife, "Betty, I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep."

"Why?"

"I have insomniaphobia!"

"What!?"

"The fear that I won't be able to sleep, because I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep."

"George, that's just an amusing saying on my Garfield nightshirt." She went to him and gave him a hug. "If you don't like the shirt, I'll wash it and give it away."

"It doesn't matter. I'm afflicted with insomniaphobia, and I'll never be able to sleep again."

She reached into his slacks packet, and removed his smart phone. "Why don't I call Doctor Freud, and make an appointment to discuss this new phobia of yours."

She speed dialed the doctor. "This is Betty Jenkins, I need to make another appointment for my husband."

"He says he has insomniaphobia."

"He's having problems going to sleep."

"Monday, July 30, at 1:00 P.M."

"Yes, I'll make him a cup of hot chocolate with whole milk and dark chocolate. Any other suggestion?"

"Yes, I have several black negligees."

"Really," she grinned. "That sounds like a fun way to relax him. I'll let Doctor Freud know if these suggestions work when we come for his appointment."