The universe is insisting that it is naptime. . . but I am not a napper. 

I have never been able to do the, “I’ll just lie down for a quick 20 mintues and wake up feeling refreshed” thing. I am so jealous of people who can do this! If I do fall asleep mid-day, I am typically so chronically sleep deprived that I inadvertently wake up four hours later like someone emerging from anesthesia. I’ll be groggy, and my sleep schedule will be off for days afterward. 

It’s never worth it. 

It’s just better for me to resist the urge to nap when it does arise. 

Like today. . . 

It’s sunny and the perfect amount of breezy. The wind chimes are making just the right amount of white noise. Both dogs would be happy to join me—either inside or outside, they are indiscriminate nappers. (Heck, they’re already snoring in furry piles at my feet as I write this.) 

I’m dressed in my softest clothes—a weird writing quirk that I’m realizing makes me more susceptible to napping in this moment because I’m already so very comfortable. 

I’m in the middle of a great book that would serve as the perfect segue between the something-productive-but-relaxing activity I could justify and the straight-up-relaxing of a nap that I really want right now. It would be so easy to slide from one right into the other. (That would be accidental napping, right? A whoopsie-daisy nap?) 

No. Must resist. Stay busy. Do something from my list. 

Although, to be fair, writing a slice of life story was on my list for today and now it’s almost finished. . .

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