It was my fault.
I should have set the alarm for 30 minutes. I am not in the habit of napping and while I often long for one, this is why I don’t allow myself naps often.
I am really good at them and I’ll sleep entirely too long.
I had an early start to the day. In the afternoon, I took a break to have a cup of tea and watch a classic film.
I shouldn’t have sat down.
First mistake.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against naps. I encourage you to take them whenever you can. But for me, a nap totally messes up my day and thus, my night. It knocks me off course and I don’t not like to be knocked off course.
It was a holiday. It was cold and rainy outside. Deadlines were met. Dinner was planned. Chores were done. Gregory Peck and Ava Gardner were in black and white on my screen. A perfect time to put my feet up and enjoy a classic film.
I don’t know when it happened, but at some point I started to nod off.
The Carpenter gently suggested that I go upstairs and take a proper nap (which means he wanted to watch sports on the TV). I’d feel better, he assured me.
As the king of naps, he should know.
I figured I was entitled to a short and sweet slumber. So short, I wouldn’t even dream. I’d just snuggle up and crash until the rain outside passed.
I also assumed the Carpenter would wake me up if I overslept, because he’d miss having me around. Like, he’d miss my presence, because I’m a joy to be around, obviously. Right.
While I was napping, the rain clouds dissipated and the sunshine came out in full glory. He flipped off sports and took to his garden, alone. I think we all know the Carpenter prefers it that way – so much so that he “forgot” I was napping.
Half an hour. An hour. An hour and a half. Two hours. I’d have been there until Tuesday, drooling on my pillow, if he didn’t open the door to announce, “Kel, you’ve been sleeping for over two hours, so you might want to get up.”
He’s super helpful like that. Also, it was dinner time, so, draw your own conclusions.
The Kelly that went into that bedroom for a nap was not the Kelly who left that same bedroom. I emerged like a dishevelled, puffy-eyed, bed-headed version of myself.
I felt punch drunk. Grumpy. Frumpy. Lethargic despite a full recharge. I’d lost half a day. Gone. Poof. Oh my gawd, sometimes I am too sexy for mirrors. This was one of those times.
I stumbled to the kitchen. The Carpenter slowly slid a cup of coffee in my direction, like a peace-offering for letting me go past the doom level of sleep, before he quickly high-tailed it to the safety of the backyard.
“A nap should only be 20 minutes,” I heard my inside voice say. I told that inside voice to shut up.
Rest isn’t something we earn, it’s something we deserve. Clearly I needed the rest.
Clearly, my husband missed me, but unselfishly let me sleep on.
Nothing alarming about that …
