London Stopover

I’m so sleep deprived that I can barely function, but damnit, I need to beat this jet lag!

I got home from work Wednesday to find my water heater rapidly dumping all its contents onto the floor of my apartment. So instead of getting ready to leave on my trip, I went into problem-solving mode and started work on getting that fixed before I left the country. But I was only partially successful. And I still had a million things on my travel prep list, so I was up until about 1am and then slept really poorly until 7.

When it came time for me to head to the airport Thursday, the wet (ruined) carpet had been ripped out, and there were 2 fans and a dehumidifier doing an extremely noisy job of drying out the floor and walls. The new water heater won’t arrive until sometime during my absence.

All of the commotion (and especially all the racket) had the cats in a panic, and at their advanced ages, combining that with my absence for 10 days could have some really bad effects on their health. I had a strong urge to postpone leaving until I had a chance to clear things up, which probably wouldn’t be until after the weekend, and I’d still need to be back at the same time. I’d have only a few days in Britain and I’d miss the rugby match that inspired the whole trip, so it would make more sense to just cancel.

If I cancelled and everything was fine in a couple days, I would always regret it. But if I left and something bad happened to any of my kitties, I’d never forgive myself. I agonized over it; I imagined the worst of every possible outcome; I went emotionally off the rails.

And ultimately I decided to take the risk and get on the plane, partly because I trust that Steve will do everything he can to make sure I come home to the best possible situation, and partly because I can’t edit my life to avoid bad things ever happening. That’s doing it wrong.

So I made it to London, via Keflavik, but I was too stressed to get any sleep on the flight (even with a combo of wine and Benadryl). Through the haze of sleep dep I managed to catch the Heathrow Express, get on the Tube going the correct direction, find my hotel, visit Sainsbury’s for a bacon sandwich and some scones, and watch Countdown. As I write this now, it’s not even 4:30pm and I’m wiped out. I’m so hopeless I’m not sure I can even manage to stay awake a few more hours, sleep a decent amount, and get up in time to catch my train to Edinburgh in the morning. They don’t seem like lofty goals.

If I don’t do anything tonight, it’s fine, I come back to London at the end of my trip and will have time to enjoy it when my brain works.

So, London, I’m happy to be in you, but tonight I need to sleep. I’ll make it up to you next weekend. Promise!