How delicious does it sound to burrow under a light blanket of sleep right in the middle of a busy day? Why should young babies be the only ones allowed this wonderful treat?
The babies and I are visiting my family in Oklahoma. Yesterday, after putting them both down for naps in the early afternoon, I paused and thought about what to do next. Not being in my own house, I had no chores staring me in the face - no dishwasher demanding to be emptied, no laundy to fold, no bills to pay. I had roughly two hours of free time, and nothing seemed as glorious as stretching out on the bed and taking a little snooze.
Here's my favorite way to take a nap: First, my belly must be full of a good lunch. I can't stand sleeping on a hungry stomache. The room must be cool and dark, and I love to stretch out across the bed sideways, and on top of the bedsheets. A ceiling fan provides just enough air movement to keep me interested in a quilt blanket, which makes sleeping nice and cozy.
The lovely Veronique Vienne writes in The Art of Doing Nothing a wonderful section she titled "Recipe for a Gourmet Nap" in which she suggests:
* draw the blinds or curtains to bathe the room in a soft, restful glow
* kick of your shoes
* decide what time to wake up and trust your subconscious
* lie down under covers but not beneath the sheets
* close your eyes and imagine that you are a small boat drifting on the waves
* opening awakening, drag yourself out of bed slowly
* throw water on your face, stretch, open a window, don't rush
Ms. Vienne also writes that John F. Kennedy, Winston Churchill, Thomas Edison, Napolean Bonaparte, and Leonardo da Vinci took a mid-day slumber. Knowing that I'm in great company, I think I'll make a 10 minute, glorious nap a part of my everyday.