Most relaxation techniques make me snort—because if I find a moment of calm around here, I’m snoring. Any moment of peaceful introspection is interrupted by a nap. If I relax, I nod off. The head bobble isn’t caused by narcolepsy; but by life. I look forward to carpools, because I can sleep at the red lights—if I pay the children to wake me when the light turns green.

My volunteer opportunities of choice are bake sales and ticket-taking because those venues provide convenient on-site napping facilities. The thread-count on most linen table cloths is higher than my nicest sheets and in a pinch I can slip under the table and steal a snooze between customers.

If waiting in any line is license to nod off and snore, imagine the deadly nature of sitting at a computer typing. After the hands nod off and turn to dead weights, I’m forced to edit out page after page of endless letter a’s and j’s. If I compound the problem with soothing scents of candles or potpourri, I could lose entire days slumbering beneath the desk on my trash can pillow.

The family seems to think that the cause for my drowse is boredom, not exhaustion, so when I slide under the edge of the family’s patience, they salvage me from between the bed and wall (where I’ve slipped while in the process of making it) and announce that they have an idea! We’re going on vacation.

To me,
Admit it, vacations are really not a break from work, just a change of venue.
[1] Double yuck, T.

Reality Bite: Rescue me from relaxation.

[1] Somebody brilliant said that one! Okay, it was me.

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