Let me begin by revealing that I am a really bad taker of naps. Actually, that is an understatement. I doubt there are many out there who are worse than I. Seriously.
There are some who can nap for 15 minutes and wake up refreshed. I live with one of these kinds of people. For years, he has tried to convince me to nap for “just a few minutes” and for years the same scene ensues.
He attempts to get me up. Just a few more minutes. I snuggle deeper under the blanket. In a few minutes he asks again. He attempts to pry the blanket away from me. I defend. Just a few more minutes. Simply replay this scene for an hour or two. Seriously.
Then he brings out the big guns. (See photo below.) He actually leaves the house to get this stuff. He does it because he knows it’s the difference between a pleasant afternoon and a grouchy one. It works every time, although I’m still groggy and a bit grumpy from sleeping my afternoon away. Yet, after sitting up, still wrapped in my warm blanket and consuming the recovery food I’m ready to take on the world. Kind of.
Because I never feel fully awake. Yet I do feel fully loved. Seriously.
Unhurried. Finding the magic in the middle of living. Capturing a life of ridiculous grace + raw stories.