… if-it-requires-thinking-I-ain’t-doin’-it …
Yesterday at work, I was like a half-blind zombie stumbling against walls and staring at a computer screen. Yes, the important things were completed
. . . in . . . slow . . . motion.
… multitasking-is-not-an-option …
Anyone who says, “Let’s Do the Time Warp Again” might, possibly, get hit.
That’s what happens to some of us when we change 3 time zones in 1 day.
I used every atom of energy in my body to get through yesterday and fell asleep at 9pm … Pacific time. That’s midnight in Florida. It shouldn’t surprise you to find out that I awoke this morning at 11am (that’s 8 Pacific time).
Yes 11 glorious hours sleep. For a die-hard insomniac, that much sleep is equivalent to the moment Cinderella makes it past the evil steplings and is looking into Prince Charming’s eyes as he slips the shoe onto her foot.
Not that I believe the “prince” crap, that foul sludge pumped into my brain from an early age. I’ve kissed too many frogs in my lifetime and married 2 ogres decades before whose whereabouts are now unknown.
My BAID (My, but alas I digress). If the red alert button on the star ship Enterprise worked as quickly and I did yesterday, it would’ve sounded the alarm a second before the ship exploded.
It might look like my state of mind is getting worse, but it’s not. A 3 hour time difference hits some people as hard as a phaser on stun. Other people breeze past the airport entrance and exit as if being teleported from one end of the country to another hadn’t scrambled every molecule in their body.
Unfortunately, I’m not the latter. I’m hoping that perhaps today my body is inhabiting mountain time.