So. Fucking. Tired.
I left my house at 7am on the 14th. I sat in Cincinnati until 7:50pm...got on an 8 hour flight. Didn't really sleep though should have since I had the damn row to myself. And my headphones were broken so I only got to hear half the movie. Whine.
Arrived in London at 8am. Sat around going through customs until 9am. Got interogated by the daft lady at the counter..~if you don't have a return ticket, how can you tell me you're leaving in September?~ Because I can lady. Leave me the hell alone. She finally gave up and let me through. Augh.
Hung about London for the day, made it to my hotel which was awesome...was going to go to bed early...people were talking and laughing downstairs. It happens. They stopped...I still couldn't sleep. I had crossed into the "I might die zone" of being too tired to sleep.
Went to sleep at 10:30pm. Woke up to my phone ringing really loudly at 2:30am. Went back to sleep. Got up at 4:45am.
I am now sitting in the airport feeling like I'm about to fall over or pass out or throw up, I'm not sure which.
And I figured I would share because whining always makes things better. Heh. I know, it'll pass. I am just going to have to tell Alex and Carola that unless they want to deal with me literally hitting the deck, they'd better let me go to sleep when I get to the house for at least a few hours. Cause really. I can't function like this.
Ok...going to go drink my wimpy ass cappuccino and contemplate crying. (c:
Otherwise, first half of the journey has been great. More on the cutest little B and B in England when we return from these messages. Or I've slept. One or the other.