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A Snors d’oeuvre
In the parlance of the youth
It’s a weeknight. Dinner has been served, cleanup has been completed. My husband and I have agreed on our evening programming, and after a long day of doing the world’s bidding, I’m finally on the couch and no one is going to ask me any more questions until tomorrow. My husband, the lighting designer, chooses a living room color scheme that’s appropriate for the show or movie.1 Sweet, I’ve been wanting to watch this, and so far, so good! My body temperature gradually lowers after the day’s running around and carrying on, and I reach for the couch blanket. Its weight and softness are soothing, and I close my eyes for just a second. I’m brought back to awareness by my husband telling me it’s now 12:30am and I should go to bed.
I’ve always been a couch napper,2 a sleep snacker if you will, and when I fall asleep this way, I also become a mean liar if someone tries to wake me up before I’m ready. My mother and a former roommate favored the tough love route, while my husband is super nice about it,3 even when I’m lying to his face about the fact that I AM getting up UGH. Once consciousness snaps back, I fight with myself for three minutes (minimum) before I peel myself off the couch, already sad I’ve left the blanket cocoon, trudge upstairs, and then read for a brief spell4 to tuck into the sleep entrée of the night.
This definitely means red lights for Phillies games and green lights for Eagles games. Go Phils, go Birds, obvz.
There’s a buttery soft leather couch at my parents’ house where I don’t even need to be reclined to pass out. I have a theory on why I fall asleep almost instantly on any leather couch: that animal’s spirit is sapping my energy.
Possibly a reason I married him? Getting yelled at while napping only builds aggravation, and therefore, the lying.
Depending on the book, I could read for 5 minutes, 15 minutes, or even longer if it’s something I’m really into.