Time warps

The Oxford English Dictionary defines a nap as: “a short sleep, especially during the day.”

Which is adorable. Oxford clearly never fell face-first into a pillow at 3 p.m. with the grace of a tranquilized hippo emerging quite Hippo-like, half an hour later!

Because a nap is not “short.” A nap is a time warp. You close your eyes for “just 20 minutes,” and suddenly you wake up three hours later, drooling like a Labrador, with pillow creases across your face so deep they could be mistaken for tribal markings.

A nap is also highly disrespectful to hygiene and grooming. Hair? Gone. It looks like you wrestled a feisty monkey. Lip gloss? Smeared. Mascara? Now a smoky eye you did not consent to. But the grin? Oh, the grin because nothing feels as illicitly good as surrendering to gravity in broad daylight.

And then there’s the two-player mode. Solo naps are great, sure, but nap with him fully clothed? That’s Olympic-level bliss. His arm’s dead-weight across you, your leg’s jammed somewhere inconvenient, and your cheek is tattooed with the seams of his T-shirt. You wake up looking like a before photo, but the way his chest rises and falls under your hand? Pure serotonin. Plus, if his arms are out in that white tee, you will consider nibbling them. Breadsticks have nothing on him when he’s soft and unguarded, mask slipped, and too dozy to remember he was supposed to be annoyed at you for your “fiery mouth.”

And when you wake up? Starving. Not “maybe a cracker” hungry...no. You need soup, bread, olive oil, balsamic, and possibly a bite out of him for dessert. Because naps don’t just replenish. They reboot your hunger, your libido, and your questionable life choices.

So no, Oxford. A nap is not “a short sleep.”

A nap is an unholy mix of spa treatment, food coma, and foreplay.

And honestly? It should be tax deductible.

Anyway, see you guys later, its 2:27pm and I’m just about to doze off...