To nap is to sleep lightly, especially during the day. I looked up the definition just to be sure.
Although a nap sounds like a lovely treat, I only nap when I no longer can walk; when I am almost falling down with fatigue.
I find “nap entry,” like re-entry into the atmosphere when on a space mission, problematic. Why is that? I’ll tell you. The reason I cannot nap is because of guilt; that dreadful quality of human nature, or more specifically female human nature.
Women are born with the guilt gene—a G chromosome that is not only encouraged but almost becomes mandatory equipment. Men, on the other hand, drop off into a deep snooze easily, reportedly proud of this ability, as though parallel to super human strength.
“I’ve always been a great napper!” Ever hear a woman say that? It’s that darn old G chromosome.
Napping seems only allowable when everything that needs doing is done. And like laundry and dust, there is no such thing as being done. And that’s where guilt enters the equation.
If we are to nap, what exactly qualifies as a nap? You must leave your shoes on so you can jump to your feet and shriek, “I wasn’t napping. I never nap.”
Shoes must be on in order to be ready to serve. It’s an absolute must.
Daylight also is required. An evening snooze is merely a by-product of a huge carbohydrate overload that occurs after special family dinners.
And absolutely no crawling under the covers is allowed because that is firm evidence of intent to sleep. After all, the very core of all criminal activity is intent.
One also must nap alone. An invitation to nap usually implies other activity having nothing to do with napping. The removal of shoes ultimately follows.
Napping with another also encourages conversation and thinking, which is contrary to napping protocol.
Those are a few of the rules. There are others. It might not be a good idea to nap while flying.
I recently did a reasonable impression of a nap on board a Westjet flight. I could hear the snoring in my sleep; my head had fallen back against the seat. The snoring was so loud that it invaded my sleep and I was thinking, while still asleep, “Holy cow, where is that racket coming from?”
Turns out it was me, but I couldn’t wake up. So napping was clearly a bad idea.
What if someone had filmed me with their cellphone and put it on YouTube. Good grief, the very thought puts me in a sweat.
The evidence would have been conclusive: I was napping. I might have even been called a napper.
It also is not a good idea to nap in the doctor’s office, as you might miss hearing your name called or the diagnosis (just as a side-note, narcolepsy doesn’t qualify as a nap).
Never nap while driving, while at your children’s concerts, or during a parent-teacher interview. Where can you nap? Men would answer that question with: anywhere is fair game.
You can nap with a dog. In fact, napping with a dog almost validates the very nap, gives you permission, as you are helping your dog to relax and feel loved and all that. Plus you can search for fleas or ticks as you drift off to sleep.
What is the appropriate response when accused of napping; when someone shouts at you and points, “Are you a napper?”
Jump firmly from your resting position and, while wiping the drool from the corner of your mouth, begin dusting in one smooth movement. You should practise the maneuver beforehand.
“No, I wasn’t napping. See, I’ve got my apron on.”
There really isn’t any other response that is effective, except maybe, “No, no, no,” followed by “I never nap,” while firmly shaking your head. Look indignant, again hiding the drool stain with the back of your hand.
Of course, men would never ask.
Maybe the rulebook should be re-written. I’ll give the notion some serious consideration right after I, uhh, … do some dusting.
Wendi with an ‘eye’ logo