I don't remember the last time I felt this tired. I could barely answer any texts tonight, I felt like I didn't have the strength in my thumbs to hit the keys. It makes sense after all. It's 11:30 at night, and my internal clock thinks it is seven hours later. (My father says that discussing it will make the j** l** worse, but if I don't, what will I blog about?)
Couple that with not sleeping last night, ten days of minimal sleep, and you have one exhausted and possibly incoherant blogger. But I just got home, and I am trying to force myself to stay awake as much as possible, and so this blog post, as well as this cake (chocolate crumb), are desperate attempts to engage in activities that will keep my eyes open another few minutes.
It's so weird to be home. On the one hand, I wish I were still there, a busride away from the kosel, an flight of stairs away from a breathtaking view. I wish I were still in the land of kedusha. But as we drove home from the airport, I realized that it's kinda nice to be home. It's nice to be in a country where the signs are in a language I can understand. It's nice to be back in a place where stangers don't growl at you for disturbing them to ask directions. It's nice to be in a place where the mattress won't reveal a little pea underneath. It's nice to be in a nice big supermarket and buy milk in a carton. It's nice to get behind the wheel of a car and driiiive. It's nice to see roads and know where they lead. It's nice to sleep in my own bed.
It's nice to be home.
(I hope to write some more posts about Israel, but right now I am so tired I can barely see my computer screen.)