You know, any day that allows a nap is truly delicious. But Sunday afternoon naps? They’re truly spectacular. Especially on this crispy cool afternoon. And especially on a couch that dips down just so at the break between cushions and widens out enough in its design to cradle a tucked under shoulder and be ok with a little drool (well maybe a tad bit more than “a little”) on a pretty designer pillow.
Talk about rejuvenation.
And then with the Fish gets to go on a long bike ride with Daddy (while I nap) in the beautiful winter colors of a bright blue sky and golden tall grasses?
And one more thing? The Terror took a three-hour nap today. Oh blissful Heaven. Thank you and God and Jesus and Mary and whomever the patron saint of napping might be (read on one weirdo’s blog that it’s “Saint Narcoleps”).
It makes my little sweet bundle of vim and vigor act like this upon retrieval.
Musta been some kind of good and refreshing dreamful ecstasy he had, yes?
And when I actually asked him if he had good sleep? He cracked up.
He sort of looks like a vampire. Eek. Good thing that I know for a fact that he’s a daywalker. (Ok. That was totally geeky. We just finished up season 3 of True Blood, so hopefully those vampire references will subside…)
Breathing much better and more deeply and through a well rested body over here in our little cranny of suburbia. Hope you are where you are, too.