Yesterday was simply a continuation to the day before, leaving me uncertain of where I was, what time it was and how much of a grasp I had on coherency.

I’d arrived at LAX around 8 Friday night, after a day of walking around everywhere I could reach via LA Metro (more on that later), popped a couple of Benadryl (my first attempt at utilizing the little pink pills) and was asleep shortly after the plane rose into the sky around 10. I woke with a jolt during the descent into Newark and stumbled my way through a couple of hours at the Jersey airport, taking a photograph of the sun as it rose over New York.

I was back in Burlington by 9:30 and unconscious a couple of hours later, waking briefly on several occasions before dozing again. My dreams were freakishly bizarre: filled with uncertainty about whether I was dreaming or awake, with a cast of characters pulled from the fellowship, college and the years in between.

Jetlag was a bitch. Is. Whatever — I’m still adjusting to being back and napping like it’s my job…but minus this white crap on the ground where some palm trees ought to be, it feels so good to be home.

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