Forfeits

I got back from my annual Christmas/New Year trip to pretend that I'm not an orphan yesterday. Flatmate L and I were in New York. First impression is that I can't really give a first impression of a place that seems to familiar; after seeing it in so many TV shows, movies, clips, books, the geography of the place is so familiar, the accents, the lifestyle, everything about it seemed like I'd been there before. It was a great trip. And now, I have to pay the price of that.

The most obvious cost is that I'm jet lagged. Not nearly as badly as the last time I went home - I feel like I could be awake until at least 3 pm. But the tiredness isn't the true cost of the jet lag. It's a little more complicated than that. See, L is, in some ways at least, superhuman. She doesn't need to sleep, or that's what she's convinced herself. So, she doesn't. All during the trip, I experienced the joy of being woken up when she decided it was time. And today, she felt that I had slept enough, deciding to try the subtle method of turning on the TV, which is right over my bedroom. Except she turned it onto a music video channel - her favourite viewing selection, if Friends isn't available - and now we will have Lady Gaga running on high repeat for the rest of the afternoon. Now don't get me wrong, I like a good music video as much as the next person. Unless the next person is L, because she has something of an obsession with them. But after the first hour, the repetition drives me insane. And I was proud that I managed to get through our trip away without killing her, so I'd like to keep that record intact. Not likely when Gaga is telling me that he can't read her poker face.

Of course, the other penalty is that I have to head back to work tomorrow to pay for it all. And for the first time since August, I won't be on reduced hours. Welcome to 2010. There's a whole month of working full weeks until the almost full pay kicks back in. And I'm so excited about the full pay that it was easy to forget about the extra time at work. Not that we work so hard in the first place - it's still a lighter load than any full time job I did back in Australia. But the first week back after a break is always tough. It feels like a month. And that's when it's a short week. The tricks of the calendar make this a full week. Joy. Well, I guess I did spend nearly every penny I earned - and a few that I didn't, thanks to the wonders of credit cards - so here we are, back with me needing to work.

But then I think back to being in New York. To sitting on a distinctly lopsided boat while fireworks went off next to the Statue of Liberty for midnight, and it suddenly seems worth it. Because at the end of the day, I'll still pay almost any penalty in order to travel. I just reserve the right to bitch about it when I get back.