They’re called circadian rhythms. And this internal body clock of mine is about to call time out.
When you’re taking a seven-hour trip eastward, leaving at 10:30 at night, and without a first-class seat, you’re looking at a circadian circus of jet lag.
I can’t complain about the destination: Along with my wife, a French teacher, I’ll be hurtling across the Atlantic to spend a week in France. I’m just wondering how I can arrive with a semblance of mental alertness to get off to a good touristy start.
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