Napocalypse Now

5 hour nap. You did not misread that.

I'm not sure at exactly what point a 'nap' crosses over into just 'sleep' but I'm sure it's long before the 300 minute mark. One 5:30 am shift at work and my whole world is thrown into upheaval. You may guess at some of what occurred. You may have heard rumors. You may even read the media's version of the story in Time Magazine next week (or Maxim, I can't remember who I gave the interview to). But this is the true story, through a sleep deprived haze of recollections, Honey Nut Cheerios, Coke Zero and Risk (the game of world domination). It's not too late to turn back, gentle reader.

4:15am: My alarm goes off. I react in the calm, rational manner of a 36 year old adult with two decades of work behind him: I begin throwing a flurry of combination punches at the snooze button from a variety of angles that would make Anderson Silva proud. After 48 seconds of incessant beeping I finally connected, allowing me ten minutes of further sleep and forever ending my dreams of a mixed martial arts fighting career.

4:25am: I invent 11 new swear words.

4:35am: I crawl out of bed across the floor on my elbows like I'm storming the beach at Normandy. I drag myself up to a standing position with a mediocre display of upper body strength, my legs hanging useless, still entangled in a bedsheet. I glimpse at my morning face in the mirror and a realization of why I'm still single sinks in slowly.

5:05am: Backpack strapped, I begin my 23 minute trek to work. As Gloria Gaynor's melodic voice serenades my ears I triumphantly tell myself I will survive. Yes, I will survive.

5:30am - 2:39pm: Electronic surveillance, computer timeclock records and dozens of witnesses have testified I was mobile and at my place of employment during this period. My brain tells me I was playing Risk (the game of world domination) with Optimus Prime and the cast of Cheers (Cliff won). Something seems strangely amiss but I am later reassured the hours will show up in next week's paycheck and that I had my pants on at all times.

2:51pm: I regain consciousness mid-stride walking home, a cup of flat, but still caffeine-blessed Coke Zero clutched in my hand, leftover from lunch at Subway the day before. Apparently my subconscious has been trying to wake me up for some time now. It doesn't like being left on its own for too long. And it apparently sucks at Risk (the game of world domination).

3:10pm: I have crashed in front of the TV with no will to change the channel. Luckily it's already on Days Of Our Lives and I'm concerned that Sami might be pregant and distraught that Hope has put herself in danger yet again. I would blame it on the exhaustion and try to convince you that I was fighting to find the strength to turn to Sportscenter but most of you know me too well.

4:00pm: I leave Salem behind. My body is in full on crash mode. While munching on a nutritious dinner of Honey Nut Cheerios I begin to think that a nap would not be a bad idea. I imagine that at one point Kennedy thought the Bay of Pigs invasion "would not be a bad idea" or that Dane Cook thought a career in standup comedy "would not be a bad idea". The butterfly has flapped its wings and the consequences will be far-reaching.

4:37pm: I meticulously set two alarms on my phone for 5:45 and 6:00 and lay down in bed. The pillows are fluffed. The sheets are cool. The lights are dim. My dream of an hour and 8 minute to hour and 23 minute nap is about to happen...

9:55pm: I awaken to darkness outside and dim recollections of Eminem's 'I Love The Way You Lie' playing over and over from my cell phone's futile attempts to rouse me from slumber. I check for missed calls and text messages and am reminded that I am not as popular as I like to think I am. I groggily wipe the sleep from my eyes and decide that taking my contacts out is a wise decision before any hour and 8 minute to hour and 23 minute nap. I finally clear my vision sufficiently to read the digital clock and decide that it cannot possibly be correct. I will have answers.

9:58pm: Contacts removed, glasses in place, I check the clock on my cable box (it has yet to let me down). My brain still refuses to acknowledge the passing of 5+ hours so I wander throughout the house checking anything with a clock. After 7 confirmations I decide that it really must be 10 at night...and that we have way too many electronic devices with timers.

10:02pm: I decide I will be up all night reading intellectually stimulating literature with educational programming on the television and will do pushups and dumbell curls during commercials.

1:04am: I pass out reading the autobiography of a professional wrestler while Family Guy plays in the background.

This blog serves no purpose, has no redeeming qualities and does not better my community in any way. I would like to tell you that I shared the story of such a lengthy nap because of the incredible productivity I would have undoubtedly engaged in had I been awake. But you and I know the truth. I would have watched Tosh.0 and eaten more Honey Nut Cheerios. I apologize for wasting your time. But still, that WAS a damn long nap.