SLEEPIEST
In keeping with my sleep theme this week, there’s another form of sleep I find sinfully delicious! It’s taking a nap when I have things left on my “to do” list. That’s one of my favorites because it happens so seldom.
I suppose that like most people, I try to do more than I can in any given space of time. On the weekends there’s grass to mow and weeding to do in the warmer months. In cooler months there’s usually still mowing to do (it can be necessary almost all year here in eastern North Carolina), but there’s also painting, rearranging, and other weekend projects. Of course, all year-round things come up that must be dealt with.
I usually slog through them. Sometimes I get so consumed by determination to finish what I’ve started that I literally begin in the morning and work late into the evening. When I get going, it’s like my food switch shuts off and I don’t turn it back on until I’m finished with my tasks.
This happens much to the chagrin of my daughter, who waits patiently (sometimes not too patiently) for me to set down my hoe or park the lawn tractor in the garage before I start making dinner. I often forget that other people’s metabolism follows a different algorithm than mine.
But every once in a while when I have a chore list the size of Siberia, I declare, “I’m not going to take this anymore.” I chuck everything aside and just relax.
My relaxation takes many forms. It could be something active like kayaking or boarding in the surf. Or it can be passive, like curling up in front of a mindless movie and just laughing away a couple hours. Sometimes though, one of the ways I relax is to simply nap.
It seems like these stolen moments are among the sleepiest times for me. I can be overtaken easily.
Taking a nap when I have pressing things to do feels so decadent. I absolutely love it! I accept that whatever I planned to do will still need to be done. I may even be setting myself up for a real battle of playing “catch up.” But in that moment, I decide to play hooky.
I don’t know about you, but taking a nap when I know there are things waiting for me to do is such a freeing experience! It’s like saying, “Up yours,” to myself and feeling justified about it.
Now, I’m not advocating becoming a lazy slob who continuously shirks his responsibilities. I’m just talking about a little time out. We all need that from time to time. It rejuvenates the soul to allow yourself the freedom to choose relaxation over work.
I mean how many times do you actually get to do that? If you have a job, odds are your boss really frowns on you propping your feet up, leaning back, and taking forty winks. In fact, I’d venture to say doing that is a sure way to find yourself unemployed right quick. But, at home, you have a greater degree of freedom — unless you’re one of those people obsessed with squeezing the maximum output out of every second. That probably deserves its own post, so I’ll leave it alone for now.
Giving yourself permission to push back a task or two in pursuit of a deserved rest is a reward. It balances the driving determination which is the other side of that coin. It’s a way to be kind to yourself in a tangible way. We all need kindness and there’s nothing wrong with showering ourselves with it from time to time. We deserve it, too!
So, I’m going to sign off for now. I’ll edit this post later. Right now I think I’ll visit Mr. Sandman . . .
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!REALITY
I was reading an article about how some of today’s celebrities aren’t known for being artists. Many are famous for simply being famous. People like Paris Hilton, Chloe Kardashian or Jon Grosselin. Of course, being rich or an offspring of a bona fide celebrity helps.
It makes me wonder if I could become famous. Offhand, I think much of my everyday life is trivial or mundane. But if I can create conflict or drama, then I have a story. And the more interesting the story, the more people will want to know what happens.
The thought of having a camera crew recording my every movement and utterance doesn’t exactly appeal to me. But I imagine one gets used to it. Hey, I could get so used to it that I cry when the crew is gone, like the “Jon and Kate Plus 8” kids.
So here’s a brief snapshot of a typical morning for me. I’ll let you be the judge of whether it makes for great reality show fodder or not.
Denise wakes up and looks at the clock. It’s 8:30 a.m. She rolls over to go back to sleep, but can’t. There’s a squawking blue jay in the tree outside her bedroom window. Denise mumbles about a shotgun and blowing the pretty bird to smithereens.
She gets out of bed and shuffles to the bathroom. Denise turns on the light, jumping back from the sight of her reflection in the mirror over the sink. She washes her face, squeezing out blackheads with her thumb and forefinger.
Denise examines her teeth in the mirror. She picks up her toothbrush and brushes her teeth with toothpaste that lightens, brightens, disinfects and freshens. Then she runs a hair brush quickly through her hair, cursing about her uneven bangs and the hairdresser who cut them.
She finishes her toilet with a short stint on the bowl. Denise smears some antiperspirant under her armpits and sniffs at them, dreamily mumbling about tropical mango.
She returns to the dresser near her bed, rummaging through one of the drawers for clothes. Denise extracts blue jammy bottoms. This is paired with a grey sweatshirt with “Charlotte” stitched across the front. One of the “t” letters is missing, so Denise gets a black magic marker and writes it in.
To complete her ensemble, Denise puts on heavy socks and stuffs her feet into slippers that dust the floor as she walks. Denise skates around the wood floor of the bedroom, mopping vigorously as she makes her way into the kitchen.
Yesterday’s coffee is still sitting in the coffee pot. Denise pours herself a cup and drinks the coffee cold. Bills and other miscellaneous mail litter the kitchen table. She’s just about to brush the paperwork aside, when she sees an envelope she’s been waiting for.
Denise grabs it up, ripping the seam quickly with her fingernail. She scowls as she scans its contents. It’s another job rejection letter. The text is short, to the point, and there are several mis-spelled words. She circles the misspelled words in heavy marker. Then she takes out her cell phone, dialing the phone number on the letterhead.
Denise introduces herself and asks to speak with the hiring manager. She gets transferred several times. Denise listens to a voice message, impatiently tapping her foot.
We hear a beep. Denise opens her mouth and… (FADE TO BLACK)
Will Denise lose it on the phone? Will she be outwardly upset over being rejected by people who can’t spell? Tune in tomorrow, same time, same place, to find out.
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!
