It’s mid-May, and I swear I just put away my winter coat. (Actually, I didn’t. It’s still hanging on that chair I promised would never become the laundry chair. Lies.)

May, my special month, is supposed to feel like a slow sip of iced tea in the sun, not like I’m being shot out of a cannon toward the Fourth of July. But here we are: the tulips have bloomed, the allergy meds are working overtime, and I already see people debating BBQ menus like they’re running the Pentagon.

Once May ends, we all know the drill—summer comes roaring in with its beach towels, graduation caps, and “let’s circle back in September” emails. It’s the high-speed conveyor belt of the year. Blink and it’s August, and your to-do list has somehow aged five years and gained sentience.

So, what’s a gal to do? Here’s my theory: embrace the nap paradox. That sweet, twenty-minute sliver of time that somehow slows the world down just enough to let your brain catch up. It’s like rebooting your internal WiFi connection. Nap. Reset. Reframe. Return.

I may not have control over the warp speed of time, but I can control when I throw a metaphorical banana peel under its feet. So yes, I will nap. I will daydream. I will romanticize May like it’s my job.

Because this is my month. And I plan to stretch it like taffy before the summer chaos chews it up.