Twice now this week, I have been suckered into an evening nap by Husband the Great. And by suckered, I mean Wednesday night I just crawled into bed with him when I got home (I work 1st shift, he works 3rd) and Thursday evening I sort of just pushed him over on the couch and trapped him there by laying on him. I'm sure he doesn't mind, he's an Olympic sleeper. That man will be talking to me one second and snoring loud enough to scare the cats the next. I don't know how he does that. But, when I do something like nap for three hours when I get home from work, it throws off my entire night; hence the post at one in the morning. My brain isn't winding down yet because it got a rapid re-charge.
Thinking back on it though, I would say that I am certainly a cat-nap master. As a matter of fact, there was entire section of the photo board at my high school graduation party entitled "Naps Are Underrated". It was easily thirty pictures of me from toddler to teenager sleeping in odd places in crazy positions at any given time.
Simple fact is: I love naps. There's something to be said for going into my spare bedroom on a Saturday afternoon when the room is a bit warm from the sun coming in the windows and just laying down for a bit. My spare bedroom is especially good because that is where we keep the majority of our books so it has that wonderful smell of books and I find that extremely comforting. AND, as a bonus, it's like playing hide and seek with Husband the Great should he come looking for me as the spare bedroom is the most little used room in the house. But usually, if I have those naps, he's still sleeping in our bedroom and doesn't even know this has occurred.
Why not just go nap with Husband the Great? Well, I move quite a bit in my sleep. I like to flip myself like a cute and pudgy little pancake. It disturbs him... and the cats. It's worse for him in the daytime because already the sun wants to wake him up despite the heavy curtains in our room, and the other multitude of things like lawn mowers and constantly barking dogs that tend to happen on Saturdays when all the rest of our neighborhood is awake and active. So, I resolve myself on Saturdays to nap alone.
But evenings, apparently, are becoming the new nap time. I really shouldn't, but Husband the Great is warm and comfy and he will not deter a nap even if his life depended on it.
You tell that husband of yours that I am right there with him on the talking one moment then sleeping the next. The girlfriend is amused by it.
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