This past wet weekend has once again strengthened my love and admiration for what I would consider a lost pleasure in today’s busy society and world of hectic daily routines.

The afternoon nap.

Picture if you will a rainy day, with cool temperatures and a dreary sky.  I’ve got a sweatshirt on, my socks are keeping my toes warm, and a light blanket is snugly wrapped around me as I settle into the recliner in my office (or better yet, find myself stretched out on my bed), take a long and cleansing breath, and let the soothing patter of raindrops on the windows take me away to a blissful and relaxing afternoon of slumber.

As a small child, I – like most toddlers – hated that I was often forced to take an afternoon nap, vowing to stay up all day when I was finally given the chance.  I lost the joy and simple pleasure of an afternoon snooze.

I rediscovered the nap in college, when after a carb-fueled lunch in the dining hall, nothing felt better than to come back to the dorm and blissfully fritter the afternoon away in joyous sleep (although my 1:00 p.m. Calculus class suffered greatly because of it, causing me to re-take the course the following semester due to my sleep-induced absences).

Upon having children, both my wife and I “found” the nap again, the long nights and even longer days of raising infants and toddlers making even a brief chance to get a quick “forty-winks” in an almost absolute necessity to survival.

And now?  Well, I don’t want to say that age plays a factor, but most Saturdays and Sundays find me scheduling in some down time and a chance to get up close and personal with my pillow during the daylight hours, if only for thirty minutes or so.  It’s one of the highlights of my weekend.

I find it hard to believe that there was a time when I hated the mere thought of taking a nap, but they do say that with age comes wisdom.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, Confucius has a date with his recliner.  I’ll see you all in an hour or so.