Sometimes It's Nice To Fall Asleep On The Toilet 🚽
Welcome to the first installment of Sometimes It’s Nice, an occasional newsletter about things that aren't terrible. It’s nice to have you here.
My goal is to post once a month. Maybe more. Hopefully not less. This first one is dumb. Really dumb. I promise the rest won’t all be this dumb, but some will. Some might be even dumber, and for that, I do not apologize.
Anyway, here goes. 🤞
I've developed a habit of napping on the shitter.
It's not an every day, deep sleep, R.E.M. kinda thing. In fact, it’s not ever really even on purpose. It’s more of an occasional, quick dip, honk-shoo.
The first time it happened I was confused—embarrassed, really. Like I'd committed some kind of egregious porcelain-adjacent sin. I woke with a start, realized where I was, and got out of there as quickly as I could. I didn't tell anyone.
I chalked it up to being incrementally more washed with each passing day as I rounded the bend toward 40. Assuming it was a one-off thing, I'd chuckle about it to myself from time to time.
But then it happened again. And again. And then another time. And it's happened enough now that I've lost count.
These days, I regularly update my group chat.
I'm never quite sure how long I've been out. On the low end, I'd probably guess a minute or two. On the high end, maybe 15 minutes? Twenty-ish, tops.
Every so often when it happens, I'll wake up and one of my legs will have fallen asleep, too. That's how I know I've been out for a while. My circulation strained from the weight of a chin on a hand on a forearm on an elbow on a pasty white thigh. It's a really odd sensation that makes you feel kinda dead but also really alive at the same time. Sometimes it's actually the needle-like feeling of quasi-necrosis in my calf muscle that wakes me up.
Invigorating shit, literally.
I've got this theory that toilet-napping is actually the genesis of the “Stanky Legg,” regardless of what Dictionary.com would have you believe.
I like to think that sometime in 2007 or maybe 2008, one of the G-Spot Boyz fell asleep on the john. When he woke up, he was greeted with the same somewhat concerning, somewhat life-affirming feeling from his lower thigh to the tips of his toes. And after he wiped and flushed and zipped and buckled, he tried to walk to the sink and his near-dead leg lingered behind.
Then, to try and regain some feeling, he started rolling on the ball of his foot, rotating at the knee to get the blood flowing again. The movement felt natural despite the unnatural circumstances. An idea popped into his head. Eureka! He decided to develop a song inspired by the moment, but felt embarrassed by the scenario he found himself in, just as I initially had. So he came up with a cover story about how his soon-to-be-viral moves had originated.
Prince Charming, Soufside, Slizz, Marc D, or DK, whichever one of you it actually was, just know, you aren't alone. There are many commode-dozers among us. At least you turned your experience into a gold record. All I've done is garner a few laughs from Them Bloop Boys in the group chat—which is its own sort of gold. And now, I suppose I’ve also written this supremely dumb essay.
To be honest, I've started to look at my toilet naps as an act of self-care. A little gift from myself, to myself, when I need it the most. Maybe it's in the morning, pre-shower, after the dogs woke me up earlier than usual. Maybe it's in the afternoon, after six back-to-back Google Meets that could've—should’ve!—been emails. Or maybe it's in the evening, after the first beer but before dinner, when I'm just trying to get a little me time and I slip off for a minute or 20. Regardless, I wake up feeling washed, rested, and just a little stanky.
Sometimes it's nice to fall asleep on the toilet.
This is the good shit. WHERE MY OTHER SINNERS AT?