I say my hell is the closet I'm stuck inside.

I have officially arrived in Tuscon, Arizona with very few bumps and bruises. Emotionally, or otherwise. I do, however, feel like my bones have somehow shifted and gained weight through this process. I guess it's what people call "jetlag".

We left Boston on Sunday afternoon, around 3:45pm. I was comforted in the takeoff by the spectacular Harbor view we had. I recognized every building while we zoomed off into the clouds.

The first portion of the trip had us on a 4 or so hour flight with a stop in Dallas Fort Worth, where we hung out for about ten and a half seconds. It would have been nice to have spent some time there, from above Dallas seemed like an attractive city with a lot to work with. It had quite a bit more water than I would have expected. Maybe that's because I always think of this area of the world as dry, desolate and full of tumbleweeds.

I think that the biggest adjustment for me has been the time difference. It was only an hour change from Boston to Dallas, which was no big deal. For heck sake, we were only living an hour earlier a couple weeks ago, anyways. All I had to do was look at my clock and remove that amount of time. Simple enough.

But then we had a 2-or-so hour flight from there to Tuscon and that's when things went awry for me. How do you tell your body that's it isn't 11 o'clock at night, but actually 8pm? How do you pretend that you haven't spent 6 long hours feeling like the world's heaviest bag of bones west of the Mississipi? I know this isn't exactly an age old question, but it is to me. I've never done this before.

I mean, the clock is telling me that it's nearly 6am. I've been up for two hours, and I never-ever get up at 4am. I know that I'm still registering on Eastern Standard Time, which means that I may be going to bed really early and waking up earlier for half a week. Which is half of my vacation.

Hopefully it works itself out.

It was rainy when we got here, and actually chilly. Almost exactly like home, except the air smells different when it rains. It has a strangely sweet scent, to me a mix of mint and manuer, which was foreign enough to my brain to give it a red flag. I haven't actually seen the city, as it was so dark that the only thing that stood out to me was the bright neon sign for a strip club. Plus, I was so tired, and such a different kind of tired, that it wouldn't have mattered if it was sunny and beautiful.

I shall tell you about my days to come, dear Blog, since we have a few sources for camera and I forsee some mis-adventures ahead [did I mention I'm here with Auntie Chris? Ya].