Like most days, I’m down for a nap again. I love napping. Best thing ever. Getting small blocks of sleep at any time of day has become kind of a specialty of mine. It’s probably the reason I always feel so alert and well rested. In fact, I started writing today’s blog as I curled up on the couch with a blanket at 7:30am on a Saturday. No one is awake in my home, so it’s the perfect time to grab some 💤💤💤…
As I pulled the blanket over me, I thought back to the many times that I slept on many other couches. My teens and early adulthood had me floating around on weekends staying at different homes. After an evening of partying my head would lay to rest on various couches. I found myself sleeping on worn out cushions covered in floral prints. Or torn pleather seats that were indented from years of asses watching tv. There was something comforting about laying down and feeling the waviness of the seats.
The couches expressed the lifestyle that once was. Sometimes they were in the basement with a bit of life left in them. Other times the couches were hand me downs given to my friends from their families as a starter to their new apartments. Once in awhile the sofas were curb rescues doused in Febreeze and reinforced with a piece of plywood where the springs had busted. Rarely did my drunken or drugged up self pass out on a couch that was brand new.
I was usually the last person to pass out and one of the first to wake up. The end of a movie or tv show would ease me into slumber. During an all nighter, I’d lay there watching the sunrise before falling asleep. Late night naps became commonplace for me. Early morning runs for recovery breakfast followed by another afternoon nap had me ready for more fun later that night.
It was the one thing that I truly appreciated of all the things my friends (and occasionally strangers) would offer me- a safe place to recover.