In my favorite William Gibson novel, PATTERN RECOGNITION, he posits that jet lag is actually one’s soul being “reeled in on some ghostly umbilical down the vanished wake of the plane” because souls “can’t move that quickly, and are left behind, and must be awaited, upon arrival, like lost luggage.”
Thought I was over my jet lag yesterday. Went to bed at a reasonable 11pm. Woke up at 3am. Fell back asleep at 8am. Slept through lunch plans with DWA friends.
I hate making mistakes. But I hate letting people down even more.
Feel like an idiot.