A nap is a sacred thing. A nap should not be interrupted unless there is a big fire.
My neighbor has a sixth sense about naps. This is how it works: When my eyes close, hers pop open and something in her brain tells her, much like a pigeon's homing instinct, to come over to my house and ask for money.
Her hair is always pulled back in a banana clip. Her eyes are a shocking blue...and red. Her brown acrylic cardigan is pilled and stained. It stretches down, over her stomach and covers half the length of her shorts. Her sweater pockets are filled with handmade, beaded jewelry to sell. Stuff she made a few years ago, when she wasn't, as she explains it "depressed" because of all of her "family shit".
The husband doesn't let loose on the details of their lives but the wife does. She is usually drunk on her "medicine" (vodka and milk), so she'll say revealing things as she wanders back down my front path. Most of her remarks make me want to run screaming away from her and this town. And then she'll say "you have such cute shoes" and I'll give her a dollar.
Saturday, after a refreshing 1.5 minute nap, I stood at my front window, wifebeater on, vodka and milk in my sippy cup, and wondered WTF I was doing in this hick town.
Learning something probably.
