Sometimes MDH and I use the word "nap" as code for "meet me under the sheets for that leisurely kind of afternoon lovin'." No sleeping is ever involved, which works out good for me because my sleep patterns get all goofed up when I partake of any extra kind of restful shuteye.
This post is about the other kind of nap. A real nap, but not a real nap, as I have never been able to master the art of napping. When I nap it's usually by accident and I wake up and stay up all friggin' night long regretting it.
Here's how it started:
Sometimes we have computer use and TV watching scheduling conflicts. This is way more likely to happen during football/basketball season, AKA fall, winter and spring, AKA three quarters of the goddamn fucking year.
Most of the time MDH is either watching his sports on (hogging) the main TV in our den, leaving the computer in the office available for me to use, or watching/listening to his sports in the office on (bogarting) the computer, leaving the TV in the den available for me to watch. It usually works out OK and I don't mind having either space to myself. Sometimes I've got other stuff to do that doesn't involve being in either room anyway.
But sometimes I do mind and I mind very much indeed.
So when he announced last night that he was going to spend the evening watching college basketball, I really needed a clarification. Where, when and for how long will I be relegated to a different part of the house?
I didn't like his answer.
He said he would start watching sports at 7:10PM, but planned on surfing the net in the office in the meantime. It was 5:30. I was already in the office using the computer doing a little research and backing up some files in preparation for reformatting our hard drive (coming up this weekend most likely). Then he said, "You've got the den until then." So he essentially kicked me out of the office. And what's worse? I let him.
Because of my passive aggression I gave no direct verbal protest. Instead I stormed about for a bit, pouting and muttering to him under my breath.
Well sir, thank you so much for that generous offer... maybe I don't want to go to the den and maybe there is nothing on television worth watching during the allotted hour and 50 minutes you've so generously given to me. Maybe I'm a bit premenstrual, and maybe I'm a bit more likely to get miffed at your lording over both rooms all the time like you own the place. Well, you don't own me... Maybe I just won't be cooking your dinner tonight mister ...
and so on...
After sputtering around for awhile my final solution to was to say screw it to both den and office, go to our bedroom and slam the door, hop into our bed and start reading. That'll fix his wagon.
I never said I was rational.
After a few minutes I was enjoying my lovely novel and no longer miffed, but I was awfully darn cold, so I tucked in under the covers. Before too long I was face planted in the book, and sacked out for the next 5 hours, fully clothed.
When I woke up at around 10:30 I was completely refreshed and wide awake, but my nose and lungs were choked with the smell something left on the stove for too long. This can only mean that MDH cooked his own dinner. I knew he had cooked spaghetti before I even got out of bed. Not only because that is the only thing he knows how to cook, but I could smell the burnt pot. Apparently his recipe for making pasta includes leaving a huge pot of water to boil dry and burn until it starts stinking up the whole house and then boiling more water and starting the whole process all over again.
So I woke up infuriated.
Infuriated and wide awake at 10:30 at night and I continue to be wide awake this very moment. I'm not infuriated anymore.
I started off bitching that there was nothing on TV from 5:30 to 7:10PM, well I'll tell you there is really nothing on TV from 10:30PM til 7:30AM. So I read a lot, ate the last piece of pumpkin pie, cleaned up his filthy mess in the kitchen, watched Project Runway on my DVR and an edited version of Silence of the Lambs on TBS, did 2 loads of laundry. I finally gave in and started brewing coffee at 5AM. It was delicious.
Real naps are just not my thing. I don't even know the last time I took one. Whenever I have intentionally tried to nap, I set the alarm, so as not to sleep for too long as happened last night, and then lie awake waiting for the alarm to go off. My naps are usually not intentional and therefore end up lasting nearly as long as a full night's sleep.
My point is that unless it's the wink-wink sexy time kind of nap that's not really a nap, naps are pointless. Much like this post.
Since you made it all the way through this pointless post here is a video I hope you will enjoy. It made me fell better:
Rosey Grier sings "It's Alright to Cry" from Free To Be You & Me