This was a question brought up last night at the annual Halloween Party brought up by a dear friend from college… well, technically the question was, “When did WE get old?” I laughed and responded, “About 12 years ago…” We reminisced how in college, Freshman year, we could stay up until 3 AM and seemingly pay no consequences. Sophomore year, it was 1 AM when we got tired… by Junior year, 10 PM.
My Junior year had an intense schedule revolving around my nap. This was an important part of my day, and intently looked forward to. I got up about 7 AM, got ready for class, went to class, grabbed lunch (veggie sub on whole wheat with yellow mustard, a bag of Doritos and two chocolate milks – one of which I gave to then boyfriend, and now DH), headed back to the dorms and ate lunch with BF-now-DH, went back to my room and took a nap, got up for class, went to class, came back, ate dinner somewhere, then studied and then went to sleep. Rinse, Repeat as necessary. Oh wait, that’s shampoo.
My afternoon nap was a thing of bliss, pure and innocent. I’d set my alarm, crawl into my loft, curl up under my wool comforter (unless it was hot) and get some much-wanted-if-not-needed sleep. My roommate had moved out shortly into the first semester, so most of my Junior year I had the dorm room to myself. I feared my aloneness would be violated second semester if someone decided they needed to move in with me, but thankfully they hadn’t; this is not to say I didn’t like my roommate – she was GREAT – and we’re still friends. So, I was on my own for most of the third year, and my naps continued, uninterrupted.
So, when did I get old? According to my mom, I’ve been a 40-yr-old since I was 2 or 3. I often hung out with adults, never really wanting to sit at the kiddie table, nor really caring to hang out with the kids. Adults were much more interesting, talked about interesting things – though this could explain my habit of worrying too much – and had good stories. I went into the workforce for a couple of years before getting married to BF-turned-DH, and it hit me: I was an old person. I’ve always been an old person. I had my routine. I had my early bedtime. I love my sleep – not a secret to those that know me. I LOVE my sleep.
I found that when I attended parties, I was yawning by 8:30 PM, and by 10PM, crankiness had set in because I was TIRED; this continues to this day. I’m in bed “early” by most standards, I can only stay up for so long before I get cranky and “need a nap”. Riding as passenger in the car has the same effect, I can be asleep within moments.
These days, my favorite place to nap in the house, is the couch. DH and I have this milk chocolate, ultrasuede, “cooshie” couch, which is to me, like Mama Bear’s bed was to Goldilocks, “Just right!” I’m loathe to replace this couch, ever, because it takes me about 30 seconds to fall asleep when I lie prone in its velvety embrace. I love this couch. Some people prefer their bed, some a recliner, but for me, it’s the couch. Maybe one day I’ll write a poem about it; until then, I’m just “old”…