Tuesday, January 15, 2008
If you want me between about 1 and 4 PM on Sundays, don't call. Or really, call all you want, but you're going to voice mail--because I'm taking my weekly nap. And I don't care if it's important. Dead relative? Still gonna be dead in a couple of hours. Roof caving in? If it's bad enough, it'll wake me up. Sunday naps are more than tradition in my house--they border on the sacramental. My grandparents took naps. My parents took naps. Someday (although they deny it to the rooftops now) my children will all nap, and will insist their children "nap" (or at least stay quiet for the first hour), as well. When I was a kid, I swore I would never, never waste a whole beautiful weekend afternoon sleeping. But now, I wish I could have back all the naps I didn't take then! And even better is a Sunday when it clouds over and rains just a little... pure sleepy bliss!