Cara Curtin
I woke up the other day at the end of a delicious nap in my favorite blue chair. I tried to feel guilty as I sat in post-nap befuddlement, but I could not muster a shred of regret at taking this quick break.
As I woke, I tried to work up enough ambition to do the least-demanding project I had planned for that afternoon, but no luck. As hard as I whipped myself, I could not muster enough enthusiasm or ambition to execute at least one of the day’s projects.
Now, don’t get me wrong – I am as ambitious as the rest of you. I wake up at a reasonable hour and spend the first cup of coffee planning my day. It usually entails breakfast (and clean-up), writing, laundry, and finally lunch. Afternoons are reserved for projects at the house or errands around town. I have mornings down pat, and they pose no problem. I am awake and alert, and in high gear for these morning tasks.
It’s the après lunch itinerary that poses a problem, and I must admit that I don’t often emerge as the winner in this almost daily tussle. The first chore after lunch is delayed by a short nap. I have learned to set the timer to I control its duration, but all too often, I kill the 20 minute alarm and continue my snooze. I’m embarrassed and frustrated to discover it’s sometimes mid- to late afternoon before I wake only to be greeted with the lunch dishes still on the table. There’s only time to clean up this mess and scurry to Publix before I must begin to bang pots for dinner.
Part of the problem is that my retired state allows me to employ my skills of procrastination to their fullest. What doesn’t get done on Monday can be done just as well on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. So I squirm a little deeper into the chair and welcome my second nap of the afternoon.
I have come to call these times “Broccoli Days,” mainly because I am a vegetable, about as useful as a stalk of broccoli. Besides, “Broccoli Day” sounds ever so much better than “useless.” Once I have identified my problem, the accompanying angst is gone. I have not only accepted who I am, but now revel in it as I become even more aware of my vegetative state. A quiet anticipation fills me as I slowly sink into oblivion for my third nap of the afternoon.
While using the broccoli image to characterize my afternoon sloth, I sometimes resort to more forceful language to describe it. Run for the hills when I start talking about rutabaga. I don’t like rutabaga, and invoking them in self-analysis signals a certain amount of self-loathing for me and my vegetable state.
My new-found trend of a quick afternoon nap is driving me crazy. I have too many things to do for me to remain inert for hours at a time. I have places to go, errands to run, books to read, laundry to fold, and dinner to fix. Oh yes, and write. Always have to get a little writing in.
I was concerned enough about my daytime sleeping that I asked my search engine why old people do so much of it. Google’s only answer was to direct me to a very boring article about narcolepsy. Nonsense. I don’t think my overactive sleep gene is that serious, but it is inconvenient and inefficient. Besides, I don’t want to waste my time by laying there dormant – let’s meet for lunch! How about a rendezvous at the museum? Want to peruse the shops on Centre Street to end with something neat to drink and munch on?
Otherwise, I’m afraid I am beginning to resemble an old sleeping dog. I told my Adult Supervision that there’s no need for alarm until I start following the sun spots around the house to curl up in. Woof.
Cara Curtin is a retired Naval officer whose last duty station was nearby Kings Bay Naval Submarine Base. She and her family chose Fernandina Beach as their forever home, where she continues to pursue her writing career of more than 30 years. She has written for radio, television and a wide variety of print publications. She also gives informal talks and conducts workshops to share her writing tips. Contact her at wordsmythe1776@gmail.com.