I have figured out how to make a zillion billion dollars, and I can hardly wait to execute my awesome plan and be rich. And more awake.
The crux is this: If we can pinpoint whatever it is in the human body that regulates circadian rhythms and then ALTER that as needed—say, perhaps with a handy adjustable dial!—we will be filthy rich. And jetlag will be a thing of the past, because forever after people will arrive at their different time zone destinations and when they reset their wristwatches they’ll also, I dunno, lift their shirts and carefully adjust the dial in their belly buttons and instantly be acclimated to the local time.
Good LORD but I am exhausted.
At dinner last night, I was about THIS CLOSE to going face-down into a dish of guacamole; just letting out a small snore, sliding forward, and landing in that nice yummy soft green nirvana and napping until it was time to come back to the hotel. This would have seriously cut into my available time to INHALE said guacamole (and you KNOW how I feel about guacamole) (also, I feel that guacamole is a fun word to type, so I am going to say it, guacamole, as often as possible) (guacamole!), so you know this means I was tired right down into my bones.
When a fellow diner asked how I was doing, I said, “Oh, I’m really jetlagged.”
She replied, “No you’re not. You don’t get jetlag coming west.”
I don’t know what I said in response. Probably I just agreed because really, I don’t want to argue about it and if you think I’m not jetlagged, okay then. I’m just RILLY RILLY RILLY TIRED and whether you call it jetlag or fatigue or chicken salad underwear, the results are the same. Crushing exhaustion, it does not feel nice.
Chris and I woke up at 5:00 this morning. Hey, that’s EIGHT in Eastern time! Practically lunchtime! But we were awake and we couldn’t get back to sleep. This was fine for Chris, because she’s a sparrow robot and requires no rest at all. But for me, this meant that I hit the wall at about 1:00 this afternoon and I had to go take a nap. Only, this sensitivity to time zone changes, it messes me up COMPLETELY. I couldn’t fall asleep, in spite of being so tired I could cry, because… ummm… well, I have no idea. I slept for about 10 minutes before I got a phone call. Woooo! Those 10 minutes really refreshed me.
Hey; tonight was better than last night, and tomorrow night will be better still. In fact, I really think I should be well-adjusted to California time juuuuust in time to board the plane and go back home. Excellent.
Anyway, could I possibly whine about my maybe-not-jetlag any MORE? I don’t think so. I mean, it’s possible, but unlikely. You’re welcome for sharing.
As for the OTHER stuff happening here, well. I mean, there are SOME things happening besides me whining about how freaking tired I am.
For example, I went to the Hyatt Fitness Center this morning and worked out for an hour, which sounds really impressive until you remember that the original plan was to do a 15-mile walk today. Oops! 20 minutes of cardio on the stepper and 30 minutes on the treadmill sounds sort of pansy-ass, when you put it in perspective like that. Especially since I was watching The Early Show while I did it, and they were featuring the world record holder for… cup stacking. I bet her parents are VERY proud.
[I bet that she was planning to take a 15-mile walk one day, and then she was in a strange city with no walk partner and she was trying to come up with a comparable alternative that sounded palatable on 5 hours of sleep, and that’s how the whole cup stacking thing happened.]
Afterwards I showered and dressed and a bunch of us went to breakfast here in the hotel, and they have this palatial breakfast buffet spread that made me want to live right here at the Hyatt for the rest of my life in spite of the saggy beds and the fact that someone stole all of our non-dairy creamer. This hotel serves bacon made from the pigs of the gods; it is thick and crisp and I may have hummed a little while I ate it. I could feel my arteries hardening with each delicious bite and I didn’t care in the slightest. The eggs were lovely as well, but it’s the bacon that will remain in my mind.
When it was time to stop eating bacon, it was time to go help with some conference stuff, and I was a Very Useful Engine for about an hour. At that point my urge to be helpful was smacked down by my urge to BREATHE, and as we were toiling away in a very lovely home with what I’m sure is a very lovely (but for me, very allergy-causing) cat, I had to abandon ship and come back to the hotel.
Then I tried to nap, which was a miserable failure, and then I met some more people, and then there was a party to go to.
I don’t know if it’s the being tired or that I’m getting older or just if that hermit thing I’ve been working on is really starting to take over, but being placed in a room with a hundred wall-to-wall people is no longer something I enjoy. It’s something I endure. I’m meeting all of these incredible people, and I’m thrilled about it and I squeal a little (and maybe tell them they’re pretty), and it’s all great, but trying to have a conversation while sandwiched between others and shouting over the din is just tiring.
Which is not to say that I don’t like a good party, because I do. But I just feel drained. And unless I can corner someone to chat with in a corner for a bit, I just feel sort of overwhelmed.
[Yeah, um, hi. That was a little party. Tomorrow there will be four times that many people around, and then the next day, even more. Good planning, Mir!]
Really, it’ll be fine. Maybe when I’m less tired (and maybe when the cocktail parties are by the pool, rather than closed in) I’ll find it less overwhelming. But you have to believe me when I say that I am usually the chattiest, loudest person in the room and I am no match for the women here. It’s quite a group.
And what am I doing? I’m wishing for naps and hoping no more pictures of my ass surface on Flickr. It’s all EXACTLY how I thought it would be, only completely different!