I’m sitting here gently sipping on a cup of coffee as I write this–well, 3/4 cup of coffee and the rest almond milk, among other adulterations. Since June of last year, this is maybe my fourth or fifth cup of coffee. Didn’t stop for any hoity-toity reasons–the smell of coffee nauseated me during a particularly rotten cold, and I switched over to hot tea. Never really went back to coffee.
However, since that point, I’ve also started napping. A lot.
For instance, the first three days of this week, I’ve slept between an hour and three hours every afternoon. Corey laughs every time I say anything about feeling guilty, but I honestly do. You know that 1 or 2 p.m. slump, where you end up going to get a candy bar? I either stretch out on the couch or go crash in the bed. (Please note, I work from approximately 5 a.m. to 10 a.m. every morning, online, at my virtual job.)
In the last six or seven months, I’ve napped more than I ever have in my life. The first time I said something about it to Cor, he said something about me not being a spring chicken. Then he saw the look in my eye. Now he just chuckles every time I say something about it, but words like “hibernation” are pretty much uttered under his breath. Probably wise.
So, I’m experimenting on myself to see if coffee will change the pattern.
Why? Guilt, I guess.
For the past decade, I’ve seldom slept more than six hours a night, and most nights closer to four hours. I was obscurely proud of that – probably that Puritan work ethic that celebrates work and struggle over comfort in every instance. Hate being stereotypical. Still feel guilty, though.
So, last night, I was trying to convince myself it was a good thing… giving myself the pep talk, you know.
- “You’re just catching up from all those years of not getting enough sleep…”
- “It’s not like you have anywhere to be or anything you have to get done–you’ve already completed your workday!”
- “Every woman in the world would love to have the opportunity to take a nap in the afternoon…”
And, of course, from that last one, the imp that sits at the back of my mind popped up and said,
“I am woman, hear me snore!”
I give up.
Waiter, more coffee!