After two weeks running around Spain and France and jumping head first into work in NYC, with no break and very little sleep, I am now taking off to Florida for the day tomorrow, instead of getting some much needed rest.
It’s all a bit crazy but, apparently, I am in fact a jetsetter. At least for the month of March.
It’s a last minute trip, and very quick in nature, but my head is currently exploding from the fact that I have to get on yet another plane, and not just one, but two in the span of 12 hours. If the trip proves worthwhile it will provide some pretty interesting opportunities in the future. If not, it will still be a lovely day by the beach meeting some very interesting people.
Can’t really complain right?
I leave my house tomorrow at 6am and get back at 10pm and will likely be unable to speak or function like a normal human due to official lack of sleep. Sunday will then be my first real day of absolutely nothing in over almost four weeks. I plan to have a full on lazy, fat day and I am going to revel in it. There will be no movement whatsoever. My couch and I will bond, I will watch television guaranteed to make my IQ go down, and I will eat anything and everything that can be delivered to my apartment. And vodka. There will also be vodka.
Needless to say, I’m really, really looking forward to Sunday.
But the travel doesn’t end after Florida. Because what fun would that be? The last weekend in March I’m off to San Francisco for a much needed visit with my Mom and bonding with my amazing California friends. There will be lots of amazing food, delicious California wine, and dear God lots of sleep. Nothing like going home for the weekend to catch up on some rest.
Once March is over, the trips stop indefinitely so I suppose I should keep the complaining of sleep deprivation to a minimum. It is travel after all, and free travel to boot, so to say I am grateful is an understatement.
But, damnit, the jetsetter lifestyle is so much sexier in the movies.