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[Editor’s note: The writer tasked with delivering this blog post appears to have fallen asleep on the job. We discovered him slumped uncomfortably over his laptop, a half-eaten bag of Oreos close at hand. The following was on his screen.]
You’d think that it would be a snap
To up and grab a little nap
A small siesta should be easy
(Easy peasy: lemon squeezy)
Yet what happens? There’s a gap
Between the napper and her nap
An interruption caused, wethinks,
By mischief-making mattress hijinks
“Not for you, those forty winks!”
The mattress haughtily declares
“My coils of steel will make you feel
You’re lying on a flight of stairs!”
How then should the would-be napper
Snag her bit of midday rapture?
Where then ought she lay her frame
And thus her missing Z’s reclaim?
It’s said there is no place like home
In our view there’s no place like foam
For naps or full nights’ blissful rest
A Yogabed is clearly best
