Nap Time, or Born to be Wild?


“I was born to be wild, but only till about 9:00 p.m.” That’s a post going around on Facebook from a site called Women over 50.  It wouldn’t be so funny if it weren’t so true.

I’ve never been a napper, unless you count sleeping through the 10:00 news. I’ve been watching the news all my adult life. I like to know what is going on.

Now that I am older, I can’t stay awake till 11:00 p.m., my bedtime, without a little nap. I don’t plan it; it just happens. Today I turned on Ellen and stayed awake for the Monday memes but slept through David Spade’s running commentary.  Later I tried to watch 9-1-1 at 9:00 and fell asleep again.

It was a busy day.  There was strength and training exercise class, plus walking one dog, and playing ball with another dog, then yard work for tomorrow’s trash pick-up. I also painted some of the metal objects that will stay outside in the rain this winter – watering cans, buckets, and outdoor metal furniture. I rehearsed chorus songs.

It used to take much more than that to wear me out.  Today my ears are ringing up a storm It’s called tinnitus. That means tomorrow is chiropractor day and my bi-monthly massage appointment.

Curtis gives the best massage. He finds the pressure points on my feet, arms, legs and head. Yes, it hurts, but afterward I can move more easily, and the ringing in my ears mostly goes away, at least for a little while.

Tonight, with the ringing, I write about naps because I have run out of friends to tell me their worst date stories.  I could dredge up another one of mine, but I like it better when somebody tells me theirs . . .

. . . the guy who only bought one glass of wine for them both, and they had to swap spit and share it.

. . . the guy who tried too hard selling himself instead of letting it happen organically.

. . . the guy who couldn’t stop talking about his ex, after three decades of being divorced.

. . . the guy who pretended to be someone he wasn’t, only to reveal later that he was a poser.

. . . the gal that checked under her seat in HIS car because she got arrested once for possession.

. . . the gal that looked great in her Halloween outfit but turned out to be very OLD in bed the next morning.

. . . the gal that had so many feral cats that her house smelled nasty-nasty.

. . . the gal that believed the queen of England is a reptilian alien.

. . . the guy who peed on a rose bush in front of all of her relatives at a barbecue.

. . . and on and on, and so on and so forth.

If you have a worst first date story, please email me.

Now the news is on. There was a mountain lion in Pleasanton today. The police had to tranquilize it in a populated area.  The winds are picking up, and the fire risk will rise for the rest of the week. They caught the shooter that killed eleven in a synagogue. Trump said something outrageous, as usual.

Time to go to bed.

Couldda Wouldda Shouldda

The news is so depressing, I really should sleep through it, or just go to bed at ten.



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