it’s only sunday afternoon, and I can already pronounce this bank holiday weekend a bust.

my body has decided to rebel against the modern convenience of airline travel. meaning that i have a kick ass case of jet lag. which is stupid really – you’re supposed to get jet lag going *to* the states, not coming *from*. however, being the little iconoclast i am, i’m doing it backwards.

flying home, i was all prepared to be awakened at 3am with enough hunger to eat off my own arm, prepared for cement-weighted eyelids by 10pm, prepared to wake up at 4:00 and try to keep myself quiety entertained for the next 5 hours while everyone else slept. so when none of the above occurred, and i freakishly assimilated back into eastern standard time without a whimper, it was a bit anticlimactic.

coming back, i foolishly thought i’d managed to somehow blissfully evade the inevitable. so i wasn’t too concerned when i was unable to sleep on the plane, chalking it up to being seated between the aforementioned mr-fat-ass and mr-dog-shit-breath, and surrounded by 4 screaming children. not to mention the mistake of eating the airline food which made me feel like an overinflated innertube. (and I will shamefully admit here that yes, i farted on the plane, however i was wedged between the travel companions from *hell*, so really, i think my little silent emissions were far less offensive, in the grand scheme of things.)

so i got home, and unpacked immediately (because i am *that* anal sometimes), checked my email (because i am that *pathetic*) and was suddenly hit by the impulse to sleep like a mack truck carrying an oversize load of bricks. yet, i resisted mightily, refusing to give in to the demands of my poor sleep-deprived travel-weary brain. my body was pleading for a nice soft pillow, or even a semi-warm flat surface to curl up on, but i *denied it*. ha! I made it stay up until the ungodly hour of what it, in its poor addled state, perceived to be 4am, a full 36 hours awake. i was victorious!

and now the bastard is making me pay. because the past two mornings i have woken up well after midday. which is fine, when you’re twenty and think devoting 14 hours a night to sleeping is a worthy, even noble cause. but after the age of 30, you realise that sleeping that much means you are *missing your weekend*, and that it means the workweek only rolls around that much faster. plus, you have adult responsibilities to take care of, like cleaning the gutters, or defrosting the freezer. not that i do any of that shit, mind you, but someday i will have to.

and i was awake til 3:30 last night. poor j was falling asleep at 2, and i am all wide awake, and bored and antsy, like i’m hopped up on massive quantities of coke, trying to make him stay awake with me, engage him in conversation about the nuclear threat of north korea, or get him to play chess (which he doesn’t do anymore even when he is awake, not because i suck at chess , which i do, but because i am the world’s worst sulker), or coax him into having sex. the poor thing is not even coherently following my sentences, but i’m trying to convince him he’s in the mood.

my body is finally getting it’s revenge. and not in a mildly-annoyed-uncooperative way.

it is stomping on my brain with combat boots, and saying, “hahahahaha! take *that* you mutherfucker!!”

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