...is napping. Forty winks. Catching a few zeds. Or as the Brit pater familias always put it, with that strange human reluctance to admit that we're actually going to sleep during daylight hours: "Going upstairs to contemplate the Mysteries of the Infinite."
I am now firmly of the opinion that remaining fully awake through an entire afternoon is against human nature, all religions and the inherent mechanical laws of the Universe.
6 comments:
Hmmm.
Considering I will spend, with the exception of a span so tiny as to defy measurement, all of time in oblivion, I find sleep a waste thereof.
4-6 hours a night works just fine. The prospect of spending an hour on my back staring at the ceiling has absolutely nothing to recommend it.
Skipper,
If you can see the ceiling, then there is a problem with your sleeping technique.
Peter:
And what do you do with all that time you're not wasting? We gather music is out and I hope you aren't flying 18-20 hours a day.
Thanks ever so much. Now I'll be doing the rug dance for Duck, attempting to excuse my paltry output.
Duck:
There's a technique? Who knew?
Brit: I'm with you in theory, but in practice napping leaves me all muddy headed and out-of-sorts. I, too, need to work on my technique.
Practice makes perfect.
There does seem to be a tipping point for me: 25 minutes or less of dozing is refreshing and delicious. More than that and I go into the deep sleep that leaves me feeling like hell and with a surreal distortion of my sense of time, so that this morning feels like last month.
Some of us would love to nap but singularly fail to - even on long-haul flights - taunted by visions of waking up and finding that 100 years have passed or that the house is on fire.
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