I do not understand the Sunday afternoon nap. Maybe it's just me, I don't know. It is a blessing and a curse. At least, this is my experience with it.
It all started Saturday evening. Actually it started about 14 years ago but I'm sure there were times between then and now that I wasn't actually tired.
Saturday afternoon I was tired though. Really tired. And premenstrual which was not helping the situation. Saturday was a busy day. I took the kids to a movie at 9 am. It was fun but it was the beginning of a long tiring day.
We had a showing. Annoying.
Then..... hot yoga. I dozed off at 3. That's pretty tired and you know how I know that's pretty tired? Because I was lying face down with cork blocks under my shoulders and I still managed to doze off.
The instructor said "put your blocks like this, lie face down and relax."
Me, in my head, "um, no. That looks horrible and there is no way I am lying face down with cork under my shoulders. That would hurt. This is ridiculous."
I think she read my mind. "Just try," she said right into my eyes.
Who knows how long later she opened her mouth and gently coaxed us back to reality, "start putting life back into your fingers and toes."
"No," I whispered into the floor. "I want to die here, just like this. In a hot room that smells like lemon grass."
Anyway, naturally, at some point, they kicked me out.
Push forward to Saturday night. PMS is raging. I sent the man a text in the afternoon that read "I HAVE PEEEEEEEEE EMMMMMMMM SSSSSSSSSSS"
This was code for "COME HOME NOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW"
He doesn't speak this delicate code so he missed the point entirely. I don't understand this. We've been married for 16 years. How is it he doesn't speak the code yet?
Hold up!!!! He speaks the code, doesn't he? He just claims ignorance!!! I get it now. Oh, he is so dead when he gets home.
When he did finally get home on Saturday I ordered that gourmet pizza be placed in front of me real quick-like. He obliged. He is a good man regardless of his ability to feign ignorance to my oh so subtle mind games.
This is where the real party started. I ate too much. My 14 year old daughter went to her first dance. I fell asleep on the couch for 2 hours. She came home at 11:45. I went to bed but slept like garbage.
All right, this now brings us to the Sunday afternoon nap. Did you ever think we would get here?
3 hours of church wipes me out EVERY SINGLE SUNDAY. It always has and I have sneaking suspicions it always will. Plus......do I need to say it? I was premenstrual. There, I said it. This means that after lunch my family kindly invited me to take a time out ALONE in my room so as to not terrorize them anymore.
I obliged. I'm nice like that.
I'm reading a book right now that has created in me a very bizarre reaction. I don't mind the book. In fact, I'm quite enjoying it. But from the outside looking in one would think it bores me to distraction. I can read 10 pages at a time and then I must sleep.
So I read 10 pages and then I slept.
The Sunday afternoon nap.
Wonderful, warm, cozy. It comforted me like no other could. It was needed but it was also the cause of all sleep destruction.
Many hours after I woke, making it perfectly clear to everyone that I wanted to watch tv, I waited for the man to finish his game. Once the baseball game was finally over, and I say finally because I swear that game was 14 hours long, the man relinquished control of the remote and I watched Sister Wives in bafflement and then Urban Suburban in boredom. It was 11pm. I knew I was not falling asleep unaided so I popped a little blue doozey and waited until it decided to take me away. In the mean time I read my book. 10 pages.
Awake. Awake. Awake. Awake.........
Blast that stupid Sunday afternoon nap. Why do you do this to me?
The moral of this story, or morals, because there are many:
-more tv's with cable might be needed in this house.
-the man speaks pms, he just pretends he doesn't.
-14 is too young to dance with boys.
-Sunday afternoon naps will wreck a person, medicated or otherwise.
-PMS provides endless amounts of entertainment/torture for me.....and for you.