(real) memory

[now playing: Diana Krall's The Girl in the Other Room (check it out)]

I had a bit too much caffeine this morning because I was out a bit too late last night, and now I've hit the wave of afternoon sleepiness. I used to just give in and nap for 20 minutes. Not so these days - now I either have more caffeine (usually a bad option) or try to get up, walk around, and get the blood pumping a bit (a good option). When I was growing up I took naps every day, at least in the summer. It might be those great memories of falling asleep in the backyard hammock with a book on my chest and the sun on my face, but this sleepy feeling always makes me a bit nostalgic. Our house didn't have a great backyard, but the hammock made up for it.

Or did it? I have memories of an idyllic childhood full of playing baseball in the empty lot on our street, catching frogs in the creek, riding bikes to the park so we could play "tennis" (our version consisted of trying to hit each other as hard as we could with tennis balls using my Dad's heavy old wooden rackets), and lots of fun "kid" stuff. But I don't remember being particularly happy as a child. If I was having as much fun as I remember, why wasn't I generally happier? I guess my point is that memory isn't always reliable. Who knows what sort of Freudian repression is going on in my head? But the granola bar I ate is kicking in - I feel awake and should get back to work.