HITTING THE WALL FRIDAY-STYLE

The ending of the hectic work week often feels like the bad ending to a drag race: a fast slam straight into the wall.  It's little wonder that on Friday, especially now that it's dark by five o'clock in the afternoon, I hit that wall hard and without mercy.

By six o'clock, I am ready to fall asleep.  I fight the feeling with snacks and with games on my phone and with the television and with chores.  Two hours later, I am quite literally ready to drop, but I still refuse to go to bed this early.  That would be crazy.

Sometimes when I get this tired, I put my head down on my desk or on the kitchen table and nap for a few minutes.  I wake up refreshed and ready for a few more hours of puttering or correcting or television watching -- whatever it is that I was doing when I dozed off.  Tonight, though, I figure I'll stretch out on the futon in the den.  It's a remarkably uncomfortable futon, so I don't expect to even fall asleep.  I leave on the lights, the television, my cell phone, the computer, because I anticipate a short nap, if anything at all.

I do doze off, though, and when I awaken, it feels like I've been out for maybe fifteen minutes.  I take my time getting reoriented, roll off the futon, and check the time on the microwave in the kitchen.

Midnight.  It's after midnight.  I've napped for three hours.

I putter around for about ninety more minutes: work on the computer, wash utensils I used earlier,  and turn down my bed.  In a case for full disclosure, I did change into sweats, wash my face, and brush my teeth before I napped, just in case I really did fall into a deep sleep.  I repeat my face and teeth routine then crawl into bed for the rest of the night (morning?).

Napping might be easier with a more comfortable futon, but apparently that isn't cramping my life as much as I suspect.  If this is what hitting the wall feels like, I think I can live with it.