Crash

I wish I could join him.

On Tuesday I spent my eight-to-five with some of those floors I’ve been romanticizing. My job was to stain the new ones: a couple of coats of “Early American” on 5-inch heart pine planks, which are soft and full of knots but – Bingo! – $1.09 per square foot, on sale from Lumber Liquidators.

My husband hoped I could knock out two coats of stain in one day. But first I had to vacuum up two months of sawdust and wipe down every board with mineral spirits. Within a couple of hours it was 98 degrees in the rooms I was working in (no air conditioning until all the sawdust is gone), and between that and the paint thinner, “woozy” would be an understatement. Words such as “stamina” and “hard-working” would be overstatements. “Sweaty, zombie-like resignation” is about right. I was in an almost programmable state.

By noon I wanted a nap, but went with a Coke. By evening I had finished one room (but painted my half-empty can of beer into a corner. Classy and clear-headed, that’s me!).

All day I had thoughts like How does Don do this all day? and My husband is superhuman and I must be sub-human and Why didn’t I come over here at 5 a.m., before it started cooking? and I bet Jack is taking a nap right now and I wish I were taking a nap right now and How hot is it in an actual sauna? and I hope I don’t start sweating onto the floor. The can says the floor should be dry. and I wonder if my brother would like to make some extra cash? and Maybe I’ll just lie down here for a minute and I’m melting, mellltiiiing…

Yesterday I was back in heels and meetings, but today I’m back at the house on polyurethane and paint duty. Right now I’m on my afternoon it’sahundreddegreesIhavetogetthehellouttahere break, watching my son get verrry sleeeepy.

He is in a happy napping phase – on most days he knows he needs a break, and he’s okay with it. He likes the crib, but he’ll fall asleep anywhere – face down on the couch, curled up on a pile of laundry, on pillows or a feather topper pulled off of the bed.

He wakes up refreshed. When I take a nap (rarely to never), I can’t recover; I wake up drained and feeling lost in time. I have better luck looking for a second wind than a place to lie down – I’ve lost the knack for napping. (I have a best friend wh0se napping is like a kind of exercise – she sometimes spends lunch breaks asleep in her car and makes late afternoon naps an after-work routine.)

With my postpartum year as an exception, I can’t remember being good at naps. In kindergarten, I spent every naptime (do they do that anymore?) lying on my mat and waiting for the lights to come back on. I don’t think the other kids thought naps were cool, but most of them fell asleep.

From where I’m sitting, though, I can see the bed, the couch, and beyond that the wilting world that is Arkansas in August.

A nap is sounding pretty good.