I am not looking forward to Sunday.
Sure, I’ll come to love the extra daylight that comes from “springing ahead.” And yes, sooner or later I will get used to waking up in the dark. But this Sunday morning I am guaranteed to be really really grumpy.
That first day of daylight savings time always ticks me off. The clock never stopped its tick tock, so where did that hour go? I never gave you permission to take it away from me. I want my hour back and I want it now.
Not that it makes it any easier on anyone who dares to cross my path, but I’m the first one to admit that I get cranky when the clocks change. You know that saying, “you snooze you lose?” When I lose an hour of sleep, I tend to get violent with my snooze button. You never know, if I slap it around enough, eventually maybe time will stand still. It hasn’t worked yet, but that doesn’t discourage me from trying again, year after year. I’m nothing if not determined when it comes to sleep. If I cared half as much about my writing career as I do about catching my zzz’s, I’d be famous by now.
And this year, thanks to a congressional calendar caffeine conspiracy, my computer is going to be crabby too. Did I mention I want my hour back? I think I’ve finally figured out a way to do it. Sunday is the day to set the clocks ahead, but Monday, bloody lovely Monday, is National Workplace Napping Day.
I kid you not.
This isn’t a Costanza tribute, but a real made-up holiday with its own website (www.napping.com) and everything. Conceived in 1999 by Camille and Bill Anthony (Can you believe we missed out on seven years of celebrations?) Workplace Napping Day–which occurs every year on the Monday after Daylight Saving Time kicks in–is our day to lie down and be counted.
Not only have the Anthonys written books on the subject (The Art of Napping and The Art of Napping at Work), they give napping seminars (Can’t you just picture the audience snoozing away without fear of recrimination?), and have even invented their own napping vocabulary. My personal favorites are “napkin,” a napper’s relatives; “snapper,” a person who nags at a napper; “constinaption,” napping irregularity; unable to nap for several days; and “naphomaniac,” a napper who overdoes a good thing.
I’ve long contended that naps are sometimes the only things that make life worth living. My favorite thing about pregnancy was being indisputably productive (“Hello, I’m growing a person here.”) while I was catching a few extra zzz’s. Now the research has finally come out to support my theory: adults who nap regularly have a 37 percent lower chance of dying from heart attacks or heart disease.
According to the Associated Press, “the workplace nap–once derided as the refuge of the worthless and weak–is being embraced like a soft pillow by American businesses”
I love that.
In the old days, when my boss caught me napping, I would say “amen” and claim I’d been praying, or sheepishly admit that I was channeling Albert Einstein, who napped frequently during the day to help him think more clearly. Thomas Edison and Leonardo da Vinci were also known to nap regularly, I’d explain, so I’m not just yanking your chain when I say that napping is part of my creative process, boss. Besides, it’s a national holiday, you know. I, for one, will be celebrating on Monday. In fact, I’m feeling rather patriotic. I may just get a head start on celebrating Sunday afternoon.
OK contestants, what’s the zaniest place you’ve ever taken a nap? Let us know by emailing firstname.lastname@example.org.
Originally appeared in the Santa Barbara Daily Sound