PEEVY PEEVY . . .

Okay, I don't think jet-lag qualifies as a pet peeve because I exact it upon myself by traveling outside of my time zone in the first place. But does it not seem as though the effects of jet lag are always worse when you come home, no matter from whence you are returning? Why is that?

Side note: the worst was when my family returned from The Motherland in the summer of 1988. Cheech and I stayed up -- as in, totally, completely, utterly, 100% awake -- for about three or four days straight. At night, we would go outside and sit on our still-warm driveway pavement and look up at the stars. Or we would huddle in one of our rooms playing card games by flashlight and trying not to giggle too loudly. Or we would just sit there and stare groggily at each other until dawn broke. Then we would spend our daylight hours jittery and nervous and yes, severely constipated.

Back on track: last night, I slept like a baby. Two hours of circling in a hot airplane waiting to land on a snowy, crowded runway will do that to a person. Tonight, despite a big dinner, a watermelon mojito and a mellow evening watching "12 Angry Men" on Broadway (EXCELLENT; MUST SEE; RAVE RAVE RAVE), I am wide awake as midnight draws nigh. I knew, knew, knew this would happen. I just knew it. And the worst part is, I'm going to be like this for the next three or four days. I just know it. In the words of a "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" episode: grrrr, argh.