I took a 2-hour nap today: middle of the day, middle of the week. When I woke up, it was noon. Noon! I don’t mean to make this a long version of a Facebook status update, and I realize that this would not really be news for many of you except that:
1) I have two young daughters (who were in the care of others today–and I apologize to those with small children reading this post, for whom the 2-hour midday nap sounds inexcusably decadent);
2) I have typically hated naps, even when I was a baby, my mom says; until I had my daughters, I considered naps a waste of time when one could be productive;
3) I can’t remember the last time I took a nap that long;
4) opening my eyes to the brief bright sunlight through our blinds, I realized ventolin 100 mcg inhaler price that I may have been wrong about naps.
Clearly, it’s taking me a while to slow down from the school year, and clearly, I need time to do it. I’ll be back soon. I haven’t forgotten.
P.S. For those who love poetry and novels together–or for those who want to study narrative second-person voice–you might check out Nicholson Baker’s novel The Anthologist. Hilarious, poignant novel about an aging poet who’s trying vainly to write the introduction to an anthology of poems that rhyme. I’ve described it to friends as Prufrock and Project Runway. Among the figures and entities which appear frequently: writer’s block, the staff of the New Yorker, Louise Bogan and Theodore Roethke, Sara Teasdale, Billy Collins, a chin-up bar, iambic pentameter, and a dog named (wait for it) Smacko. I laughed out loud several times.
Smacko? If you don’t name your first dog this, I will be disappointed beyond expression. MAYbe you could call him “Schmacko.” But that’s the only variation.
Well, we have always wanted to name our dogs Filbert and Milvia (after streets in SF and Berkeley). But I think those would be better names for goldfish.