I used to be a big believer in the mid-day nap. When I lived in the dorm in undergrad, there was nothing better than napping before a late afternoon class. Or even an early afternoon class. There’s such a decadence to it. After I moved off campus, the day time naps—at least in between classes—came to an end. Maybe if I had a morning class, I might take an afternoon nap, but nothing like preparing for class by ninety minutes of napping in the warm sun. I even napped outside occasionally. I loved napping. For my first master’s degree, I routinely would integrate a nap into my daily writing practice, trying to take notes on whatever came to mind in those last moments of consciousness. Since then, however, I haven’t been much of a napper. So almost ten years, maybe exactly ten years. It’s a lost art for me.