I think I finally may be over my jetlag. And it only took six days.
We flew back on Sunday on an overnight flight from LA that got us into Heathrow at 3:30 in the afternoon. I had to go into the office, so by the time I got home it was about 6. I stayed up as late as I could, but went to sleep at about 10. I slept until 3:30 the following day. I got up, did some grocery shopping, did some laundry, watched some TV and then went back to bed at about 10. Got up at 7 on Wednesday and went into work.
If you do the math on that one, you'll see that I slept for just over 26 hours in two days. Sweet.
The rally itself was hellish, as I knew it would be. I had some truly awful news from a friend just after I got there, and spent the rest of the time wishing I could be more help to him. I only cried about three times, and only wished I could just quit my job about five. So, all in all, slightly better than I exepcted it would be.
The rest of this week has been a catch up from the jetlag. In retrospect, those drinks on Thursday night were a baaaaad idea, as I felt like the undead on Friday at work.
The kittens seem happy to have me back, although they were a bit "oh, were you away, we barely even noticed, oh, I don't feel like being pet now, maybe try again later, who are you again?" when I first got back. We're all good now though.
Today is day of cleaning and buying phone chargers because I'm using my old phone again and I can't find the charger (suitcase fell on new phone. It's a long story) and maybe seeing The Break-Up, which I can't help feeling I will love.
I'm so rock-n'-roll right now, I can't even tell you.