It’s the afternoon. The sun is in the sky but its rays are a rusty orange, not golden like the first light of the morning. Lunch has been eaten, the computer awaits, and the clock says it’s 2pm. Then it hits me like a sleepy slap in the face. My bleary-eyes blink and I look outside, seeking natural light. I. Am. Insipid. Welcome to the Mid-Day Slump.
If I could compare this phenomenon to something more comprehensible, I’d say it’s like the entire month of March summed up into one feeling. Between the hours of 2-4pm, I hit my wall. The sleep I missed the previous night catches up to me, although I can’t physically take naps (I just can’t nap, no idea why). This bland piece of my afternoon is something I slump through each weekday, hence the title. It’s an unfortunate occurrence I and apparently my dad suffer through. My dad and I share many commonalities, among them migraines, oily Mediterranean skin, and the Mid-Day Slump. But I don’t blame his genes for this awful afternoon event. I believe everyone has that moment of their day where they might keel over in tiredness.
In all my writing and art classes, my instructors have encouraged me to create at the time of day when I feel most creative. If the night (specifically late-night, go figure) is my idea-making window of opportunity, then the Mid-Day Slump is it’s evil twin. It’s an agent of chaos disguised as a meaningless afternoon where I don’t feel like doing anything. Again, I’m sure everyone has their own daily burden of listlessness to bear. We’ve all identified whether we are a night owl, early bird, or day bird. The problem is I’m both a late-nighter and an early-riser, so that day bird just doesn’t fly for me.
I do find ways around the Mid-Day Slump, and it’s really not all that bad. If there’s work to be done, I buckle down. If there’s a good song on the radio, I take a karaoke break. At Hollins, I would reward myself by leaving my office and taking a trip downstairs to spend dining points at Greenberry’s cafe, where Ena, the best barista EVER, would make me a pumpkin chai latte with oat milk. The GREATEST pumpkin chai latte with oat milk (I’ve yet to find one as good as hers, though I’ve made a list of some runners-up). I try to avoid the clock, though that exhaustion wave usually submerges me anyway. There’s no avoiding it.
So to the Mid-Day Slump, I say, fine. I’m not surrendering to you, but I’m not going to pretend like you aren’t sitting in the corner, just waiting to hit me with your afternoon onslaught of boringness. I know you’re there, and I’m not scared of you. I know you’re there, and I’m writing these words at 2:30pm on a day in February to counteract your negativity. How’s that for a slump?