Naps: now with added raccoons.
Nothing sucks as much as a failed afternoon nap.
You’re tired, it’s a chilly Sunday afternoon, and the duvet is looking particularly fluffy and inviting. Even the cat has given up on any pretense of being awake and energetic – she barely twitches an ear when you stumble past her and dive into bed.
Ideally, what should happen next is as follows: you hit the cushion face-first. It takes you only seconds to drift into a delicious doze, and a minute or so to really dive into a deep sleep. An hour later, you wake up to a drool-soaked cushion, facial muscles totally relaxed, your head in a happy space and a cup of tea steaming next to you. Bliss.
It should not be peppered with loud sms tones, two phonecalls, an earworm swirling in your head (damn the Beatles and Eight Days A Week), a neighbour with obsessive-compulsive vuvuzela-blowing problems, and a command performance from the local Hadedas. And, of course, said cat suddenly deciding that nose tapping is the new national sport.
And when your tense jaw muscles finally, begrudgingly surface from their uneasy dreamstate, no tea. None! Sacrilege!
Makes a person pretty much want to grump through the remainder of the day. My evil eye just blistered the paint on the wall…
Tags: afternoon naps, cats, hadedas, tea, The Beatles
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