Dear afternoon nap,

I remember earlier today, when I was thinking about how the day--a Saturday--might unfold. Definitely the farmer's market. And I thought I might go in to my office to finish packing stuff for the move to the new shiny office. After that--what? It could have been anything. An open afternoon with space in it for a walk, or writing, or baking, or pesto making, or all of that and more. Anything at all! it's the kind of day that gleams as the paradigm for Saturday, the kind of day that paradoxically happens only seldom.

So yes, the farmer's market, with a splendid haul. We unloaded and put food away, and in short order I had taken myself to Target for a roll of packing tape, then off to my office, where I found that my prox card wouldn't let me in. Evidently since my prox card is now programmed to let me into my new building, where I am not yet moved in, I am no longer allowed in after hours to my current building, where my stuff still is.

And yet, the day still glowed. The sky clear, the sun shining. Oh well, I thought. I'll just come in early on Monday. (Parenthetically, let me say that the I'll just come in/get up early on X gambit is almost always a ruse. That I perpetrate on myself, but never mind.) So I took my roll of tape and went home, made myself some lunch, then lay down to read. Which lead to you, afternoon nap.

Three hours later, when I roused myself, I was all, now what just happened here? But in point of fact,
it was probably a good thing. I've been sick, after all. And I've been traveling hither and yon. Maybe it's a little extra payment on the principle of my staying healthy mortgage.

The fact remains, though, afternoon nap, that you kind of snuck up on me. And that makes me feel a little sheepish.

hope I'm not up all night,

htms.