West to east jetlag is the worst ever, even if I did sleep on the plane. The red eye flight was less than half full and I had a full four seats to myself, across which I stretched out and listened to Stephen Briggs read Monstrous Regiment* in between naps. Now, however, my pelvis is killing me and I need to take a bath.
My sense of entitlement is still rankled by US Airways charging for their headsets, and I intend to not fly with them again, but I imagine I'll change my mind when I book my flights for Rocker Bing's wedding, and again choose to sacrifice 8 hours of comfort for the sake of a hundred or so.
Holiday-wise, now that's what I'm talking about. I am relaxed, refreshed, confident, loved, and ready to face the world again: I have motivation. I have a reason to do what I'm doing, and I have a destination in mind for my life. I'm not a fan of saying goodbye, but the knowledge that every time I do, there are fewer to be said in the future: that's OK.