Nap Time

So last week I was on Rob Schwartz's Disruptor Series podcast.

I'm told it went well. Personally I can't stand the sound of my own voice. As I often say, I have a face for radio and a voice for newspaper.

In any case it was a great experience. But also unnerving as well.

You're staring at this foam-covered microphone, fielding questions, and feeling this immense pressure to sound intelligent, articulate and worthy of people's time. Criteria that never seem to matter to Captain Ouchie Foot.

And so it's not surprising that some things fell through the cracks. For instance, Rob asked me to account for today's current creative malaise. Had I been more on the ball I wouldn't have just cited the Open Office Plan, I would've quoted myself and my self-coined phrase, "The Long Table of Mediocrity™."

Similarly, when I talked about the ridiculously long list of creative deliverables that must be connected but never produced, I should have mentioned FFDKK's, Frivolous Fuckwadian Digital Knick Knacks@.

And the other item I completely forgot to mention was Napping.

I am a big believer in midday naps.
I believe they're restorative.
Invigorating.
And absolutely necessary.

In the early days of my career, I had an office. That office had a door. A door that locked. It also had a couch. That couch and I became good friends everyday at about 2 o'clock.

In later years I found myself in a cubicle. With a little imaginative furniture rearranging, I was able to carve out a surreptitious napping space under my desk.

These days I work from home, mostly.

One of the creature comforts I have allotted myself (and there aren't many) is a full size, luxury hammock. Note the rope attachment to the shady tree. This was my own invention which I have dubbed the SwingMaster 9000™.

If you've ever spent a summer afternoon in a big, wide comfortable (swinging) hammock, you know its narcoleptic powers rival Halcion or Propofol.

And now, just in time for the cooler weather and Southern California's rainy season I have a new napping space -- my youngest daughter's room.

This summer it was occupied by her good friend and original college roommate, Tori. She had a summer internship here in LA and we let her stay in Abby's room, as Abby was in Denver working at a post production house.

Tori was the perfect guest. Polite, considerate and best of all, quiet.

She moved out yesterday. And while we will miss her and the opportunity to impress her with our amazing Jeopardy watching skills, it will be nice to be getting back to my napping room.

I won't bore you with too many details, suffice to say the 2nd story room has windows on three sides, high ceilings and faces the street, away from the constantly barking dogs in my backyard who have taunted and tortured me for years.

I don't know if dogs get debilitating, though non-lethal, throat disease, but I wish these jet-loud mutts would.

The short of it is, Tori's Room, which was Abby's Room, is now once again, My Room.

Sweet dreams.