So, I take back what I said about naps.  I still have strong feelings of dislike towards them.  They are vicious.  They are tempting.  They team up with your insanely comfortable mattress to entice you into giving them a shot.  But, as is true with so many mildly misleading ad campaigns, having a lovely celebrity (or handsome mattress) advocating said product (or nap) lends absolutely no credibility to their message.  (See, naps are smart.  They don’t use some stereotyped “stupid middle-aged white male.”  That’s an advertising stereotype I abhor even more than the new Arby’s commercials.  Which, I suppose fall under the same umbrella.)

The truth is (in my case, and I know I’m an exception) naps simply, as is said, rob Peter to pay Paul.

My husband would argue this point.  He’s a firm believer in catching up on sleep.  And it works for him.  Not me.  Not unlucky me.  (Actually I’m very lucky.  I’ll take unluck when it comes to sleep in exchange for my other good luck.)  You see, my body seems to have established a quota for sleep.  I get a maximum of eight hours in any 24 hour period.  And that’s only if I’ve earned it.  If I haven’t earned it I get hours trying to fall asleep.  Luckily, I have my first love, Amitriptyline to help out in these cases.  But 10mg at bedtime only enables me to get my body’s established quota.  No more.  So… when I get gullible and fall for a Sunday Afternoon Nap I’m outta luck.  Because for every hour I sleep during the day, I get to spend one more hour trying to sleep at night.

Last night was no exception… I took a nearly three hour nap (unheard of for me, btw) so, logically, I spent nearly three hours in the fickle and frustrating land between consciousness and sleep, I got a workout each time I attempted to toss and turn (I told you my obliques were going to love this new mattress), and you got to listen to me rant.

G’night fibrofolks!  Please let me know how you feel about naps.  Is it just me?