So I spent all day Sunday boasting to anyone who would listen to me that I had beaten jetlag. Jetlag fetlag, I’d say, telling all and sundry how I’d slept 10 hours straight through. No staring at the ceiling while my body clock thought it was US time. No staggering through Sunday barely able to function due to acute tiredness. Nope not me. I’d discovered my superpower, I was 'no Jetlag man'. I was immune to Jetlag. Or so I thought.
Boy was I tired when I went to bed on Sunday, that was not surprising, it had been a long, tiring week and even though I’d had 10 hours straight through, I still needed to catch up on some sleep. So I closed my eyes as my head hit the pillow and allowed myself to drift off into a blissful sleep, my last thought before I was away with the fairies was that this jet lag really was a myth. Then I was gone, unconscious, a deep delicious sleep… that lasted 12 minutes. Then I was awake. Wide awake, simultaneously more tired than I’d ever been while being more awake than ever. Tiredness dripped from my pores while my mind zipped through thoughts and memories refusing to let sleep close. When I finally fell asleep my sleep was disturbed by my alarm signalling I had to get up and my head thumping like I’d drunk a gallon or four the night before.
But my jetlag induced sleepless night and groggy day is not the thing that is making me grumpy. What’s making me grumpy is the combination of how smug I had been and the realisation that I had not discovered my superpower.