Thank goodness I started running on the treadmill in England, otherwise I'd probably be crawling on hands and knees through the checkout line at the grocery store. Absolutely pathetic. Or pa-thit-tic, as they say here.
Then I wake up at night, having had the most vivid and astonishing dreams. (Settle, boys, they're not about you, sorry! Or not about most of you...) So real-ish seeming.... the phone rings and I'm up after it, but no... I was asleep! Apparently that's another altitude thing going on, making me a bit tired during the day.
So I am trying to get a nap scheduled into my busy busy busy day, because last night I dreamed that Hilary Clinton was being executed for treason, by guillotine, and it took four grisly tries. Now I know that she's one tough bird, but that was a bit much. Yikes! Tonight I'll try to steer the dreaming toward daisies and flower gardening and such... leaving the dream axe (and dream scythe and other sharp cutting implements) in the dream shed.
Apartment living takes some getting used to... children crying, dogs barking, people arguing loudly at 2am. Was that what woke me ? what are they arguing about?? It's in a language I can't understand, and even if I could understand it, who understands the arguments of lovers at 2am anyway? Not even them, probably... especially not them. Certainly not me.