Nap Failure

I’ve been tired lately. I think it’s the heat. I’m not naturally energetic to begin with, as I take after my dad, who has never turned down an opportunity for a nice afternoon nap. So I’ve been coming home after work and it’s still too hot to go out and walk, so I set an alarm for a 30 minute nap, because that’s what all those health columns in women’s magazines tell me is appropriate. I mean, if Cosmo tells me to only nap for 30 minutes, who am I to disagree? Cosmo is always right. So anyway, I set my alarm for a 30 minute “power nap,” (ugh, I HATE people who say “power nap”) and drift off to sleep. A couple of weeks ago when this happened, I wake up to complete darkness. It’s 2:30 AM, and I’ve been sleeping since 7:30. Good job, Rachel. So I stumble out of bed, pantsless, make-up smudged so I look like paparazzi photos of Britney Spears after a long night, hair falling out of its ponytail, and I feel my way to the bathroom to wash my face, take out my contacts, and brush my teeth. After putting some pajamas on, I decide to eat a granola bar, you know, because I slept through dinner and that’s all I have. Most people would have just kept sleeping, but my brain was like “Girl please, you’ve seen yourself when you sleep in your make-up, stop acting like a hobo.”

Two nights ago I did the same thing, and I “woke up” at about 9:45. Except I don’t know how much I was really, truly awake. My brain was computing enough that I needed food and I needed to put some clothes on, but I was seriously on automatic pilot doing all of this. I have no idea how I went across the street and got some pasta from the Italian market, but I did, and I ate it. I’ve done what I call “zombie eating” before, but this was an all new level of functioning. I mean, my brain was pretty much turned off, and I not only fed myself, but put clothes on, went outside, remembered to lock my door, went into a food store, picked out food, paid the cashier, went home, unlocked the door, locked it again, and ate my food. The lengths my brain will go to to save itself from my attempts at cooking. Anyway, I guess I need to figure out a new way to curb my napping. I hate my clock radio, but maybe it’s come to that. Or maybe I shouldn’t nap at all and therefore avoid zombie functions. Ugh, thinking makes me tired. I'll be back...

Here I am, blogging!

Well here is my blog. That no one will ever read ever. But I thought it might be fun to have a place to write all the weird things that happen to me now that I'm trying to live on my own and be a contributing member of society. A lot of funny or funny/horrible things have happened since I've been here in this new job and apartment, so I thought, let's write them down. As of now, I am too tired to be very funny or descriptive about the latest disaster that is my life, but I was excited about my blog, so this is my introductory post. The title, if you (the nonexistent person reading this) were wondering, comes from a quote attributed to my heroine, Dorothy Parker: "This wasn't just terrible, this was fancy terrible. This was terrible with raisins in it."

That snarky lady. God love her. Ok, until next time, bye, cyberspace!