Blame the Trappists

I'm exhausted. Less exhausted than I would have been had I followed through with my "plan" (and I mean that in the loosest sense of the word) which was to leave New York on a 6:15 am train after getting home last night a little before 3:00 am. Yeah. Didn't happen.

I did still think the "plan" was in place as late as last night (or rather, this morning) when I set my phone to go off at 5:00 am as I turned in at 3:00 am. The phone that hadn't been working all weekend. The phone that was mysteriously turning itself off all day. And yet, I said, "Well, if the alarm doesn't go off I am sure I will be nervous enough about missing the train that I will just wake up when I need to." I thought this, at 3:00 am, after several, and several meaning many, Chimays.

Instead, I woke up from a very involved dream that I don't actually remember and thought, "I have no idea where I am". After a few moments of that I remembered that I was in NY at Ben's and that I was supposed to be on a 6:15 train. I checked my phone, which had not actually shut itself off, but also had not gone off as an alarm as I'd set. And yes, it was 8:30 am. So much for my "plan".

Ben wandered in from his room as I was madly dialing Amtrak. "You're still here?" he asked, also a bit groggy and confused. Nothing seemed quite as it was supposed to be.

I was able to switch to a later train with a very minor monetary investment. And I slept the entire way back. But even after an egg sandwich, a vitamin water, and four more hours of sleep, I was still feeling the effects of the Chimays. Those Belgians know what they're doing.

I feel better now. But sore. In that bad sleep kind of way.

But New York was wonderful. I'll get to that eventually, I promise.