Napping

During the majority of my working career, when I was either stationed in offices or at a library, I used to engage in that oh-so-original activity of thinking about what I would do if I ran my own company. I was, naturally, going to be extraordinarily good to all the employees, making decisions with their best interests in mind and empowering them by letting them help make those decisions. I’d read about all the companies at which employees are really happy, and they all seemed to encourage self care. Therefore, at my company, we’d have a free gym membership, a cafeteria with healthy food, and occasional spa visits. We'd have a daycare center, so parents could be near their children. People would be allowed to bring their pets to work. We’d also have a “nap room,” where employees could take short power naps.

I couldn’t quite figure out how this nap room would work, though. Would we have beds? That sounded like a terrible idea for many, many reasons, not the least of which was giving whole new meaning to the term “office shenanigans.” Would it just be a quiet, dark place with comfy recliners? And how could it possibly work without being a shared space, and, yet, who’d be able to sleep with that annoying co-worker snoring loudly from across the room? It just didn’t work. Yet, every afternoon, when I became completely exhausted and unproductive, taking those “brisk walks” around the building, so often recommended for this slump period, and splashing my face with cold water in the women’s room, I’d wish I could find some place just to take a quick nap.

Eventually, my nap idea evolved into that oh-so-sensible mid-day siesta period enjoyed by our neighbors to the south. The company would just close for two hours during the day, for lunch and naps, and people could go home. (After all, both my doctor’s and dentist’s offices do this, making it impossible to get lunch-time appointments. If those responsible for saving people’s lives and mouths can do so, why shouldn’t everyone?) Those who lived too far away could keep sleeping bags and air mattresses (like those good old days when we all had mats at nursery school for the naps that no child actually needed) and set them up in their offices. Those lucky dogs who never felt the need to sleep, could spend the time running errands or going to the gym or watching a movie on the company T.V. set up in the company lounge. It was the perfect solution.

Well, now I don’t need to own a company. I can take a power nap every afternoon if I want. And yet, somehow, I don’t seem to be able to bring myself to do so. It’s as if I feel I shouldn’t be allowed, since those in the office can’t. I don’t know why that is. After all, I don’t feel I shouldn’t wear cut-offs and walk around barefoot just because my colleagues can’t. I don’t decide I can’t throw a load of laundry in the washer and dryer just because my colleagues can’t. I don’t feel I shouldn’t pet Lady just because my colleagues can’t. But somehow, I draw the line at taking a nap, which on some days would probably be a better idea than doing laundry.

I’m worried about this Puritan-like work ethic I’ve been developing. I'm not sure it was so strong when I was working in the office, and it doesn’t bode well when it comes to answering that question about being able to separate my work life from my home life. Next thing you know, I’ll be burning all the books in our house except the Bible and hunting down witches.

Then again, did Puritan women (or men, for that matter) ever worry about separating work life from home life? I think it’s time to change out of the cut-offs and into a long, simple dress (preferably black) with an apron. And where are those sensible black boots of mine? Oh yes, and I'm sure those two women who recently moved down the street have put a spell on me...