I found it hard to sleep on the West Coast last week, awake most mornings at around 3 a.m and awake right through the day from then. I guess it was driven by a mixture of excitement, out-of-kilter body clock and maybe the fear of God on account of being holed up in a suspect hotel in a not-so-delightful spot in the Bay Area. (True story – on my first night I slept with my hiking knife on my bedside locker and the chair against the door.)
Though with so much to see and do throughout the day though, tiredness wasn’t an issue. So by the end of the week, I assumed that the combination of the long flight back and catching up on the mound of stuff built up on the to-do list would have me nicely tired and ready for beauty sleep. No. Such. Luck.
Since getting home, I’ve been hitting the hay at the usual time, but am finding myself wide away each night. Wide abloodywake. On the plus side, I’ve spent the interminable hours wisely. There are now no stray or historic numbers in my phone directory – they’ve all been delete, delete, deleted. Ditto, excess photos. I’ve even had the time to colour co-ordinate my apps. It’s pathetic isn’t it?
But fear not, I’ve been nourishing myself in other ways. I had pasta 3:30 a.m on Wednesday and buttery toast at 4a.m last night (because post-midnight carbs don’t count of course). I blame watching Bradley Cooper play the role of a chef in the middle of the night for leaving me ravenous. A grave error of judgment that sent me flying to the kitchen for nibbles before returning to the leaba dying to dream of dear Bradders (but far too alert to doze off).
So now in the Dublin Bay area, I can confess, that my body is wired to the moon, but I am getting so much value for money out of the 24 hour clock. Provisions procured, I’ve just downloaded more Bradley Cooper flix for tonight. Hopefully a girl can dream…