I enjoy luxurious naps. Unfortunately, this is an activity (activity?) I don’t enjoy frequently enough. The opportunity needs to be “just right” paired with mental, and environmental quality controls.
Sure, I nap at other times, but they are not quality, professional naps. They are routine, amateur naps. The “Rainy Day Watching Uninspiring Chick-Flicks in Bed” nap. The “Dog-is-on-My–Lap” nap where I refuse to move, despite tingling limbs, to keep from disturbing a four-legged loved one. The “Sunday Afternoon in Front of the TV with my Favorite NFL Team Only to Wake for the Game-Deciding Last 5 Minutes” nap. Its not even the “Come Home From Work, Exhausted, Sit Down, and Drift Off into a Spiraling Daze” nap (a nap only dreamed about by young parents whose second job begins when they open the front door to dinner preparation, laundry, homework supervision, bath time, bedtime, and the last minute major project due tomorrow type of job that does not provide a W2 as proof of employment).
The nap I love is the Sensuous Intentional Nap (SIN). It is an environmentally controlled nap. The one you plan and organize and dress appropriately for, nap. SINing is best savored when your mind is unburdened, your heart is at peace and your joints aren’t aching. Fresh sheets are on the bed. A favorite cuddly throw is snuggled around you. It is luxurious. It is indulgent. It is a heavenly SIN.
When on a business trip to Austin, I had such an opportunity for SINing. It was the second day of a 3-day conference; the first day had been a little too long. I’m amazed at how a day of activities and then reuniting with friends over dinner and drinks can be simultaneously invigorating, and energy depleting. I woke, Day-Two, strengthened from the previous evening’s reconnections, and yet sleep deprived from … yep, the previous evening’s reconnections. There comes an age when hanging out with friends past midnight is no longer prudent. (Okay, this is my “Squirrel” moment. The word prudent makes me think of President George H.W. Bush and Saturday Night Live). Obviously, I should be beyond the personal era of being prudentless; simply consider my reference to Bush and SNL as proof of age.
Facing a day packed with meetings, some more crucial than others, I devised a plan. I would hit the conference highlights, attend the luncheon, again connecting with cohorts, and then self-indulge in a peace filled SIN before jumping back into a few intriguing late afternoon sessions where I would, undoubtedly, be physically rested, emotionally centered, and ready to conquer the world!
The hotel, a mentally decompressing stroll from the conference, sat on the banks of the river. My room on the 14th floor overlooked Lady Bird Lake. Although I did not have a balcony, the floor-to-ceiling picture window provided a breathtaking view. The opposing wall, covered in a matching floor-to-ceiling mirror, gave this small room the feeling of vastness. Like an artist facing a blank canvas and a palate of colors, I was poised to create a nap masterpiece. I peeled the bed down to the sheets (you know the comforters are not routinely washed). Temperature was adjusted, not too cool, not too warm. Much like the Three Little Bears’ home, it was “Just Right”. A “Do Not Disturb” sign hung outside the door; a glass of water sat on the nightstand. With the curtains pulled open wide, and the lights turned off, the room was soft and lazy. I hung up my Elizabeth Warren uniform: black slacks, a black sleeveless blouse, and a colorful jacket. I considered putting on PJs (shorts and a t-shirt) but then reconsidered. The temperature was perfect, the sheets were soft, why complicate it with clothing? And so I stripped down to my bare essentials and arranged pillows until my body felt as if I was floating on clouds. SIN!
I am not sure if I was dreaming, but I remember thinking at the time that this was the best nap I had ever experienced, that is, until I heard someone knocking. Dang it! Dang it! Dang it! The “Do Not Disturb” sign was on the door and the lock bolted. I was not going to get up, or even reply. If I ignored, maybe whoever it was would go away and I could relax back into my Zen SIN state. Nope. Knock. Knock. Knock. Stubborn, I refused to move, refused to open my eyes, refused to acknowledge this rudeness. More knocking followed with rapid rapping by what seemed like more than one or even two fists. Okay! I opened my eyes only to see my noise intruders … four window washers on scaffolding washing my “Picture Window”. Four window washers hysterically laughing and knocking on my non-curtained window … at me. Me! Almost nekkid (a southern form of nakedness) me. Stretched out on the bed without covers, me! Me, who frantically tried to hide myself only to realize I had thrown the comforter to the other side of the room. My arms and legs flailing, trying to find covers, or a boulder, to hide behind incited more hysteria (not just from me). What to do? What to do? I rolled off the other side of the bed; yes … the bed would be my boulder, my hiding place! Crouched down, eyes clinched closed (if I cannot see them, they do not exist philosophy), I could not understand why the knocking and laughter did not stop. And then, then I understood. I remembered the mirrored vastness of the room. Now, the mirrored vastness of my nekkidness!
Later that evening, I ran into the team of window washers, on the ground floor. They did not recognize the fully clothed me, but they did recognize the story and agreed to let me take their photo, all the while promising that they had not already taken mine!
So, what is the moral of the story? There must always be a lesson learned. Is it to not skip business meetings? To close the curtains even on the 14th floor? Not to sleep nekkid? Or maybe, just maybe, it is that we should welcome the opportunity to embrace life, but if it all falls apart and we are left feeling exposed (as we will at times), laugh and take pictures for the scrapbook.
