I am discovering a new skill in the last few days, something I’ve never been capable of before, in all my years.
It is called napping.
It most often happens when I have had a busy, productive morning: first yoga; then work at the keyboard: writing (a full thousand today, on Ye Olde Problematic Collab), critting, and correspondence; then a small lunch; then perhaps some time on the phone (today with Mark, finally released from his most recent Work Death March); then I decide to lie down in bed with a book for a little while, as a reward for all that industrious productivity.
Then my eyelids get heavy.
Then the words swim on the page and make no sense, even though the book was perfectly compelling earlier.
Then I decide to just curl up and close my eyes a bit, let them rest….
Then it’s twenty or thirty minutes later, I don’t know who I am, and there’s drool on the pillow.
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Who knew? I’ve never been able to nap before. I think it’s a function of being near an actual bed, in the afternoon. With nothing else I’m *supposed* to do. Not supervised, not stuck in an office.
This must have been when I’d get M&Ms, when I had a real job.
Napping is probably healthier.