Caring for One’s Inner Teenager and Picture #9

The Mush naps atop Lifelongnewyorker back in Staten Island.  RIP, Mush.

The Mush naps atop Lifelongnewyorker back in Staten Island. RIP, Mush.

This photo was taken, without Lifelongnewyorker’s knowledge or consent, about five years ago.  With a few circumstances changed, it could have been today.

What’s different: We no longer have that loveseat. Lifelongnewyorker is five years older. The cat pictured, lovingly nicknamed The Mush (for obvious reasons), died this year.  Our current cats nap by themselves.

What’s the same: After a long week, Lifelongnewyorker likes to take a nap on Saturday.  She pays lip-service to the cover story that she is going to read; a book is nearby.  But the lying down, the strategic placement of the pillow, and the addition of a coverlet all show that she’s fooling no one, including herself.  It rarely takes more than two or three pages before she sinks into unconsciousness.  Today’s lasted for three hours.

How nice, you’re probably thinking, to take such a long nap in the middle of a long weekend day.  Well, sort of.

The “inner teenager” of the title is a short dose of Mr. NYer’s wit and warmth.  You see, Lifelongnewyorker’s nap began only a few hours after she had gotten up from bed.  Yes, Lifelongnewyorker slept until 10:30 am.  More to the point, Lifelongnewyorker CAN still sleep to 10:30.  And then, a couple of hours later, take a nap.

She also falls asleep on airplanes before take-off.

Sadly, most people of Lifelongnewyorker’s vintage can no longer sleep much past 7 am.  They cite too many years of waking up for work, waking for children, waking to get an early start on the day’s worries.  Is it that they failed to nurture their inner teenager? Did they grow up too completely? You decide.

Lifelongnewyorker knows that having one’s inner teenager still hanging around is a gift.  Now if she could only do something about the clothes strewn on the floor.

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One Response

  1. […] Last weekend, friends who had read my first entry here insisted that I could learn to rise early to meet them for exercise at 5:30 am.  They have never seen me at that ungodly hour, so they can be forgiven for holding to this objectively wrongheaded supposition.  Staying up late, and sleeping late, are lifelong habits.  Mr. NYer used to think they were his way too, but years of rising early have reset his circadian clock.  He nods off during evening television and rarely sleeps past 7:30 on any morning.  My identity as a night-person, on the other hand, is bred in the bone.  Mr. NYer explains it, tenderly, as my “never having lost touch with my inner teenager.” […]

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