Love and Sleep

Jet lag, or whatever this thing is that makes it impossible for me to sleep more than four hours at a time is making me crazy.

Every night here so far, I've stayed up as long as I can stand, usually around 10 or 11pm (which is pretty good, considering I am dead tired by 4pm...) and I fall into a deep, deep sleep until 2am when I am WIDE AWAKE! Hubs is doing just fine, even though he tells me every morning that he didn't get any sleep. Lies. I saw it with my own eyes. He sleeps just fine.

Usually from there, I stay awake until around 6 or 7am, which would be fine if I were coherent. It's more like that I feel wide awake but the next morning, I couldn't tell you what I did, read or thought during that period. Once I pass out part two, I'm out till 1pm. I stumble out of bed and I'm soooooo sleeeeeepyyyy. But, we only have four five hour energy things left, and we have to save them for a special occasion. Luckily, this city is covered with coffee shops and they all know "espresso" and "double". I don't need no stinkin Starbucks.

I've decided that I can't just blame the time change for my recent insomnia. (which I have never suffered from in the past, thank you.) I think it's mainly my brain. Even though our street is relatively quiet, we have to leave our window open a crack or we'll suffocate from the heat in our reoom. The quiet of our little alley makes every noise that much louder, then the quiet that follows only gives my imagination time to think of the most ridiculous of explanations. Like when icicles (huh, I don't know how to spell that word. Don't know if I've ever written it before...) fall and shatter in the street. Maybe it's our disgruntled butcher lady breaking into a window with her meat cleaver. Or maybe the street is actually made of ice and the water below it is filled with artic alligators that just escaped into the streets. Oh, imagination. My blessing is my curse.

So, to everyone who worries about us (ahem, both sets of parents...) we've got the worrying covered.

Overall, we haven't seen anything worth worrying about outside of our wild imaginations. The people in downtown Corpus Christi are more terrifying and probably more likely to mug us than anyone we've seen here yet. (Minus some pretty frightenting print leggings...) Most of the time we don't even feel noticed. And when we do it's not a "hey let's cut them with a homeade ice shank" kind of notice. It's more of a "I didn't know Americans were that tall or in Moscow at all. Meh." (I really need to learn the Russian equivalent for "meh")

Feeling very happy and very home. Ready for my sleeping patterns to catch up and we'll be set.

Cheers to slee zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...