Siesta Sentience

my-first-thought-of-the-daySo now I take naps. As it’s forming, the habit seems to want to be: I wake up and feed the dogs by 8 and am also usually up at some point prior to help my lovely wife out the door to work. I’ll put away last night’s clean dishes and sit back down with my coffee to do some office-y housework. Then I fall asleep without trying for anywhere between 1-3 hours. When I wake up there will still be half a mug of coffee on the nightstand and I won’t have to change directions twenty times in the kitchen (putting away clean dishes) when it’s time for the preparation of dinner.


  • I was once staunchly anti-nap. My personal logic for this makes total sense, but is boring so it’ll be skipped.


Photobooth at a wedding reception? We're in it!

Photobooth at a wedding reception? We’re in it!

Since waking I have been up to do the dishes, wash/freeze 3c of red kale, make dinner (butter chicken and Basmati rice & side salads of kale, arugula, spinach, kelp, dulse, tomato, onion and home-made coconut-coriander vinaigrette), clean up after my messy self and also shower my matching, messy self.

For the last several nights, we’ve enjoyed summer’s later sundown with fireflies and at theaters and art shows. I feel nearly a socially acceptable person — heck, even while living the Vomitous Indie Movie Camerawork delivered by walking three blocks on a nice, breezy 90° day at yesterday’s downtown street affair, I was able to do a reasonably successful job of things just by having on make up and not talking much.

If behaving like a lady suits the situation, I suppose I can begrudgingly comply.

This all sometimes feels, though, like I am hiding a dark, horrible scene from people behind a happy, painted face. And that feels like lying, and I was raised (my dad the ex-military, retired police officer) to abhor lies of all ilks. It is why I have never been able to commit to writing fiction — it is a mash of imaginative lies.

Recognizing fallacies in my own perspective helps keep a soft wall between what wheels around me in ALL OF THE DIRECTIONS AT ONCE and that happy, painted face. While experiencing a separate reality from the world around one can really work to suck one into a vortex of horror from which escape becomes improbable, it is not one’s fate unless assumed to be.

I’d rather keep smiling. There are so many more reasons to do that.

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