Crashing

I'm in California, but I essentially have had no sleep for over forty hours. Explanation on the morrow, but it primary involves a combination of being sick and a cross-country plane trip. I'm pretty sure I'll sleep tonight...

[Update in the early morning]

Well, I was right. I finally did sleep. Which was a relief, because I hadn't been able to for a long time, and not been able to sleep well for a longer time. Ever since I came down with this thing (Thursday night, when I woke up in the wee hours shivering almost uncontrollably, and then shifting over to sheet-drenching sweats) I'd only had one night where I had uninterrupted sleep of more than a couple hours. On Sunday night, I woke up about 3 AM, and never got back to sleep (for no obvious reason--while my temperature was still wandering around, I didn't feel that bad).

On Monday I had to get ready for the trip, and I wasn't really tired, anyway. On Monday night, I went to bed in anticipation of the morning flight to LA, and expected to sleep well, given how little I'd had the previous night.

Wrong. I went to bed at ten, and lay there. And lay there, and eventually ended up laying there, not sleeping (and mind racing with various topics), until I eventually got up at 5 AM (the alarm had been set for 6), and checked email and took care of some last-minute packing. At this point I had been awake about twenty-six hours.

At 7:30 Patricia dropped me at the Boca station to take the Tri-Rail to the Fort Lauderdale airport. It was hot on the train, and I took off the jacket that I was wearing in anticipation of the much cooler weather in California. And left it on the train.

Got on the plane. I had a window seat in the emergency row, and was fortunate to have an empty seat next to me in an almost full plane, but the armrest wouldn't lift (though the seat did recline), so I had no option than to sit upright, which is never conducive to sleep for me. I envy people who can sleep on a plane. In addition, while it normally doesn't both me, windows tend to be colder, and this one had a very cold wall and floor (I took my shoes off for comfort, but eventually put them back on because my feet were so cold, except that the soles of the tennis shoes were almost frozen, so it took a while to warm them back up). Short version--no way was I going to sleep on the airplane, for a 5+ hour flight.

Got into LAX at noon, rented a car, checked into motel (not a bad room for the price, other than the neighborhood--it's in east Gardena, which is almost the same as west Compton...). But I didn't want to go to bed yet, because I wanted to get on a California schedule, and if I'd crashed then, I'd have really screwed things up. In addition, I had to replace my jacket, and I also decided that I really, really needed a haircut.

So I went over to Del Amo Mall, made a stop at Burlington Coat Factory, and found a walk-in place. Then I drove over to the beach, with the thought of taking a little walk, but at that point I was starting to feel like a zombie, including the without-the-brains part. So I stopped at Trader Joes in Manhattan beach, picked up some water, balance bars and peanuts, and headed back to the room, where I took a soak in a hot tub, and finally called it a (very long) day. Not as long as Bill Murray's in Groundhog Day, but at least he got to sleep every night. Now that I think about it, I miscalculated the duration last night (no doubt due to my sleep-deprived addledness). It was actually forty-four hours.

Anyway, I slept for seven hours, woke up, couldn't get back to sleep. Which is OK. It's 6 AM, PDT, and I'm ready to start a California day, and get a good night's sleep tonight for the drive to Phoenix tomorrow.

It's kind of amazing, really, how adaptable the body is.