Jet-lag: An Ironically Sleepless Nightmare

Well, Day 2 back in the Czech Republic went lovely. It’s Night 2 that’s got me frazzled…

Leaping six hours ahead, I thought I would out-wit the jet-lag by refusing myself sleep on the red-eye flight here. I would fight the deprivation the first day back and then crash at a normal Czech bedtime. “I’ll best you, jet-lag!” I foolishly believed. Now, at 2:14 a.m., the jet-lag has defeated me. It’s like a bizarre Twilight Zone episode (“bizarre” is a bit redundant) in which the more I yawn, the less tired I become. Truly, that’s the strangest part. I lay here with heavy lids (because of which I almost missed the autocorrect of “lids” to “kids”) and minute-by-minute yawns and, yet, when I close my eyes and lay still, all hope is lost. They say “you can sleep when you’re dead,” which is pretty ironic considering I’ll be a zombie at work tomorrow.

If any good has come of this, it’s that I can share a shot I took of Náměstí Míru on an evening stroll yesterday.

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