I went to Napville and I didn't think I'd ever come back

I don't like to nap. I know there are a lot of you that love a good, drooling sleep-away-the-afternoon nap, but they have never really suited me.

My mother said once that I didn't nap, not even once as a kid. She'd try and try to get me to slumber every afternoon, but it was all for naught. She'd cuddle up with me on the couch and soon she'd be long gone and I'd slip away to play until she awoke again. I never made it to Sleepytown no matter how nice she made the ride.

My problem with napping is that generally when I wake up I feel worse than when I first lay my head on the pillow. I either get too much sleep or far too little to feel rested. It's not worth being grumpy and stiff and groggy. So, I tend to avoid them at all costs.

My beloved Cynical, however, loves to nap and he's quite a pro. If there was a napping Olympics, he'd win gold every time. If napping was a professional sport, he'd be the first draft pick.

He's tried to convert me to the Cult of Nap. I always manage to escape without drinking the Kool-Aid or succumbing to the brainwashing. Cynical has pulled all of the tricks out of his bag of nap mastery, and none have really worked.

Today, however, I gave up the ghost. A long work week, lots of stress, the oppressive heat and getting up much too early were the recipe for my downfall. I curled up on the couch, announced that I only wanted to sleep an hour and drifted off. Nearly three hours later, I woke up to realize that I was alone in the living room and that a trip to Napville had literally sucked away my afternoon.

I sat up and was instantly regretful. I had crammed my body into a contorted position to fit onto the couch along with a cat and multiple pillows. I had somehow twisted my hand in such a way that it now ached from supporting the weight of my head and my bladder was about to burst. What had I done? I was stiff, sore, grumpy and I'd lost the better part of my day. I knew that napping was no good. Nancy Reagan had told me to "just say no", but I had given into all the hype. And I was not the only one.

I peeked upstairs to see my dear Cynical had taken advantage of the situation and was snoozing away in the bedroom. I think I saw a grin on his face. I swear he slipped something into my Diet Coke. My momma warned me about boys like him.

Yet another lilly from the daylilly festival a few weeks ago.