Well, it gets pretty dark these days and when you are suffering jet lag, the darkness seems to never end. I flew to Switzerland on Wednesday night, but I didn’t make it to where I was going until Thursday night, a total of twenty or so hrs travel time from door to door, which is normal for a trip overseas, usually. The thing about me, and traveling, is that I never sleep on the plane and I pretty much despise being awake at the “mid-point,” which happened to be Heathrow. Laden down with too much carryon baggage; no sleep, terrible coffee and memories filled with babies crying was not helping my “I wish I was there already” state. Airplanes and airports have two major similarities; bad food and dry air. My hair was standing on end in parts, what with all the static, and my skirt was sticking to my thighs and my “I’ve been coughing for days” throat was pretty much glued together. I was a miserable mess. Fast forward to today, which is actually tonight and I am wide awake, after a nap of about two hours. It’s beautiful out here but the silence is deafening when you are wide awake, even if it is in a Marshmallow Bed (which it is!) I don’t usually get up when I can’t fall back to sleep, but this is different, I need to write! I am sleeping (err… not sleeping) in a foreign country, I packed up my place back home and am virtually homeless in Canada. It’s a funny feeling and the first time I have ever had it. I know what I will be doing here over the next three months, but jeez, talk about living for the moment. Yes, I did write the song about it but sometimes it can be unsettling and the question can arise “Am I doing the right thing?” Today, err, tonight… I feel good about the decisions I have made, but what happens when the three months are up?? Only time will tell. Speaking of time, I look forward to having my body back, locked into time once more. But then I find myself asking the question “What IS time?” I went back to work this fall , once a week, at a café I used to work at five years ago, (until I quit my waitressing life and jumped into this “Sweet Musician’s Life.”) I thought one day a week would help out the bills immensely, which it did… in any case I got back into the swing of things like I had never left, from the creak in the bathroom doors, to the coffee jugs to the smell of sweet bacon, it was as if I had never left. So where did the time go? And now, I am back here, perched on a hill in an old Swiss barn-turned-quaint-house, sitting in the same chair I left almost a year ago, writing to you, with the smell of empty Clementine rinds and the sound of wind howling around the roof of this top floor…not complaining so much as being wide awake, pondering life. Thanks for listening. Love Lindsay
A Whole Lotta Night Time…
