Jet lag is a special kind of torture, one that has snuck up on me in my late 30s. It turns everyt thought into a foggy mess. Before the Paris trip last year, I hadn't ever experienced it. Just seemed to be able to force myself onto local time by sheer force of will (or, with my spritely twenty-something endurance). But ten years later and after two years of baby-induced sleep debt, there's no longer any reservoir, and I've always tended to insomnia anyway. So odds were probably against me.

I didn't sleep on the flight, which left Brisbane at 10 in the morning, and landed in LA at 6 am. After that, I've had two broken short nights. You know the deal: sleep an hour or two, wake up, can't get back to sleep, repeat. So today, I had to stop twice for naps at rest stops because I was seriously concerned about nodding off. Not good. Don't want to end up like the bugs on my bumper. So after checking in here in Fort Smith, AR, I googled a local chemist for pharmaceutical intervention.

Twenty minutes later I'd met a fabulous group of southern women who'd been working in the pharmacy for over 30 years, had free pens, my sleeping aid, and a dinner spot recommendation. Nice. And east Oaklahoma / west Arkansas is just spring beautiful – verdant forests with soft foliage, yellow and purple wildflowers on the roadside. But I'm going to keep it short today. Dinner, research checklist, then straight to sleep.