NEEDLING

This afternoon, I take the big leap across the big pound … this is far from being the first time, yet every time I do it, it puts me ill at ease. It’s not unusual for me to not sleep at all for several nights or so before I fly off, and absolutely nothing while flying … thus, this time I decided to take a different approach, as I only have six days in Paris and I simply can’t spend my whole time being jet-lagged and off kilter. I’ve come home relatively early the last couple of nights, had just a couple drinks and went to bed trying to think good happy thoughts. I did have restless dreams all night long and woke up way before my alarms sounded at 6am, but when it did, I went to the pool and did lots and lots of laps. I’m now nice and sore, and by the time I board the second plane tonight, the one going straight from Houston to Paris, I hope that after a couple of bourbons, I’ll be so tired that I’ll fall into a stupor and sleep like a baby all the way to Charles de Gaulle.

So off I go, flying into the sun …

(The mere thought of climbing into a large hallow tube of metal with wings weighing several tones, and going up 30 thousand feet into the air at ungodly speeds, puts me in a weary mood to say the least. What ever happened to ocean liners? That seems like a much more descent form of transportation. I’d rather float on water than whiz through air any day.)