Jet Lag is my friend.

Jet lag is a misnomer. It should be Jet Drag. As in, “the jet dragged you behind it for many hours and then left you and your luggage in a heap on a conveyor belt”.

When we got back from Scotland one of our bags had popped open. Well, actually, the entire zipper the length of the duffle was gone. Not open, not broken, GONE. D3 held up my make up bag, all alone and on the belt, over his head and looked at me like “Oh, this can’t be good.” It is a very classy Barbie lunch bag, so I did not fear being judged. The things missing from the bag are as follows: 1. An awesome Steampunk Coffee shop metal cup (very sad to not have a set.) 2. One blue and one green sock. I had doubled them up to keep my feet warm and then stuffed them into awesome steampunk coffee shop metal cup. So I now have a set of socks that are one green and one blue. 3. A box of Scottish shortbread. (Which is the tragedy of the whole thing.)

Inside my Barbie Makeup kit: 1. My extra pair of glasses, the cool blue cat- eye ones with the sparkles. 2. The Luckenbooth neckless that D3 had given me. 3. The pirate’s bootie of jewelry my mother-in-law had bestowed upon me. Yes, I even took a pair of earrings out of the woman ears! (Side note: She has a wooden box of rings that displays them all and when she showed it to me I had a serious moment of jittery lust and drool. I have never thought I liked gems, but shown together, they are delicious.)

So the Sleep part of the trip is really the biggest problem. I have a ridiculously strong internal clock. Up at 7:21 a.m. most mornings, 3:30p.m. eyes closed if only for 5 minutes, 7 p.m. hot-flash, 9:30p.m. reading in bed, 11:30 p.m. wake up to pee and turn off light and put book away, (twenty runs to the loo all night) then 4:30 a.m., my witching hour, when I wake up and debate getting up and getting a jump on the day or snooze until 7:21 a.m. The 7:21 a.m. part is interesting, since that is the exact time I was born.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Jet Drag. I lost all of the next day we came back to “just a little short nap” events. Then I started the 30 minutes every 6 hours pattern. Now I am staying up as late as possible (8:15 p.m.!), so I can sleep past 3:30 a.m.

I am looking forward to greeting the inventor of instantaneous travel. Be it by turning a ring, like in Beauty and the Beast (the book, not the movie) or the Transportation pod, like in The Fly (the second one, not the first) or some sort of beam-me-up contraption. I will grip their hand (or whatever, if they are aliens or robots) and thank them for easing the part of travel that kills me every time.

Then I will book my trip to the Maldives.

Really. I need to go there.
Really. I need to go there.




Author: Zoe

I use words. I watch things. I see what you may not. Bio info is hard.

2 thoughts on “Jet Lag is my friend.”

  1. You are so cool! I do not suppose I’ve read anything like that before.
    So wonderful to find somebody with some genuine thoughts
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    on the internet, someone with a bit of originality!

  2. This is so funny – jet drag!! Not so funny about the missing parts of luggage, but at least you did not lose the blue cat-eye glasses and the Barbie lunch bag. Whew!

    I hate jet lag. I hate those nights where you wake up at odd hours in a hotel room with a spouse who seems to be able to sleep, and you have nowhere to go while your body says, Have breakfast, do some stretches, turn on the TV.

    Weird how you always wake at 7:21. Even weirder that you have only one hot flash a day.

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