My Sunday afternoon siesta is a tradition that everyone understands except Himself. There are two kinds of people in the world: those who nap and those who don't. Nappers don't tend to look askance at non-nappers, but the reverse is not always true. Himself has known me for almost two decades, yet he still sometimes gapes at me when I announce it's time for my Sunday afternoon indulgence.
It is a day of rest, after all.
Lunch after church tends to be a simple affair: sandwiches, leftovers, fried chicken from the grocery deli. Sometimes we go out, but not often. After we change out of our church clothes, the girls call friends to play. Later, either Himself or I take Tiny Girl to the barn for a practice ride. I also read. I plan our upcoming week.
And I always, always, make time for a nap. A serious nap complete with eye mask, ear plugs, and comfy covers.I crawl into bed with a happy heart.
Today it's rainy, so no trip to the barn. As much as I love the ponies and watching Tiny ride and everything else, I'm glad to stay home today.
Sometimes it's just nice to be instead of do.
Photo credit: Alyssa L. Miller / Foter.com / CC BY
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