Afternoon Slump

Around 1:00pm that I start to feel a certain lag in my day.  The afternoon is here.  The day is just about over, but it's not.

There is a final hurdle to cross, my 4th block.  Part of me thinks this is a type of self-fulfilling prophecy:  I am supposed to feel like this because...well, just because.

My grandfather used to take power naps like a narcoleptic.  When I was younger, my sisters and I would go up to my grandparents cabin and run wild.  My grandfather would slip into one of the bedrooms on the main floor, lay down above the covers on one of the most uncomfortable day beds, and pass out without a struggle, as if his body natural state was sleeping, and this transition needed no kind of coaxing for its return.  I'd watch him enter the bedroom, and then I'd peak into the room moments later to see a passed out grandpa, his chest rising and lowering beneath his faded flannel shirt.

Coffee is my weapon of choice, the antidote to an undertow of pessimism, intermingled with apathy.  I am beyond entering flow. That time has passed.