Burrito Naps

For what it's worth, and that's not much, not much to me even, less to you, Carne Adobado burrito naps are one of life's simplest pleasures, superior in every way to all other nap producing activities:  the headache inducing six-pack nap, the sticky leg, just had sex nap, the still at work sleeping in the lunch room nap, etc.  In fact, the only nap better than the Adobado nap is the screen door open, California "rainstorm" nap.  You know the one, when it gets really cold, like down to 50, brrrr.

I came home today from our minimum day at school and stopped with the boy at a local dive food Mexican restaurant.  The place isn't much for decor, sitting with a commanding view of Inglewood and Artesia Bolevards, not that anyone would ever really want to command such a view.  We sat away from the windows. The lad, knowing very little about the magical properties of Adobado, and lacking the proper adult supervision he has sorely missed for his whole life, ordered the "rolled tacos", which he was surprised to find look a lot like taquitos--dumbass (that's a direct quote from yours truly, though if you know me, you know that).  My burrito was for more wonderful, no beans, no rice, just marinated pork, a tiny bit of guacamole and a generous amount of pico de gallo.  I ate quickly, avoiding the view, imagining I was in a sleepy village of Quernavaca, protecting the locals from Eli Wallach.  The sad consequence of eating quickly is that you finish quickly, but the boy was done with the Mexican equivalent of Van DeKamps frozen fish sticks anyway and the gas fumes were starting to get to me, besides, I knew what would follow.

I drove home, hung my keys in the place my wife has forced me to do such things and headed up stairs.  The old cat, who my wife is convinced is dying, though he has been this way for years, was sleeping on my pillow.  I gently lifted him, so as not to wake him from his 30 hours of sleep, and threw him across the room.  I don't know if cats always land on their feet, but they do always wake up when you throw them, which isn't a bad skill.  Don't worry, he's back on my pillow now, as I write this, continuing to die.  Anywho, I put my back down next to the bed and fell into my pillow, face first.  Exactly one and a half hours later, I awakened.  I am thankful for that nap, for Adobado, for the boy, his brother, the wife who makes me hang my keys in a place I can find them, and even for the cat who will probably make it another year or two before he does die on my pillow.  I will bury him in one of my pillow cases so he will stay warm forever.