The kick.

I take naps. I'm a nap-taker. It's actually kind of a hobby.

There are a few downsides to this. The first is that my naps tend to be time-consuming. I try to set alarms to limit how long I'm out, but either I end up setting them back repeatedly, or I just sleep right through them, waking up two hours later than I intended wondering what happened.

Another con is that I emerge from these monstrous naps incredibly groggy and with a weird taste in my mouth.

Today I woke up from my nap to my phone ringing. This isn't uncommon. Of course, I can't figure out why I can always sense my phone vibrating from a call (it's perpetually on soundless vibrate), but I can't hear my alarm blaring for 20 minutes. I guess it's just one of those things. Maybe a phone call is the signal to my subconscious to give me the kick (Inception, anyone?), whereas my alarm is only, you know, an alarm. Psh! Who pays attention to those?

I tend to be rather snappish during these post-nap phone calls. I don't mean to be. I'm just not yet processing input like I should be.

Unfortunately for my dad, he tends to be the one making these post-nap phone calls. Fortunately for my dad, I was able to figure out what was going on today when he called me, and I responded to his inquiries with enthusiasm.

I think my biggest clue today was the phrase "New York Steamer". A New York Steamer is a special sandwich made at Firehouse Subs. It's positively scrumptious! It's all corned beef and pastrami and provolone and saucy goodness. It's like biting into a steaming mass of pure, undiluted Delicious. And my dad brought some home for dinner.

See, this is why I could never be a vegetarian.

Listening to: "Believe" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra
Reading: Snakecharm by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes