Satan Is Calling

My forehead is hot, my arse is sore, my feet feel as though I have walked in high heals for 2 days and my eyes look like I have had the map of Hong Kong tattooed on them. I am sitting in an airport pleading with God to share with me the secret to time travel so I can avoid that moment when you are an hour into your flight and it dawns on you that there is another 19 to go. Can this cup pass from me?

I love Gary Moore’s CD ‘Still Got The Blues’, there is a song called ‘Too Tired’ which is played with an up beat Chicago shuffle. Juxtaposed against the title of the song, Gary rips guitar solos that shout anything but ‘Too Tired’. I am listening to his song  right now for inspiration, I will attempt to get with the program even though I know I look like hell and I expect little children will run to their mothers in fear of the zombie walking towards them – dribble and all. To make it worse I have a middle seat BECAUSE THE PLANE IS FULL!!!

OK…time to have a good attitude. It could be worse, I could be having a tooth removed without anaesthetic, or my naked dreams about singing at a church dressed only in a pair of undies prophetically materialize. I could have my taste buds replaced with ball bearings. I could have been born with one nostril and no knee caps. I could have been born right handed! Anyhoo….life isn’t that bad right? I will experience the modern wonder of going to the toilet at 38,000 feet, have the choice of chicken or beef for dinner and watch movies I have missed out on – all of them!

I know this blog entry is dribble but this is what happens when you give a weary man an iPad . I don’t know how you feel but I have two layers of tired. First the crazy making kind travelling through time zones (which makes me want to join in with the child’s tantrum a few rows down), and the other because of a life time of busyness. If there was a recovery drug on the black market I reckon both my wife and I would quickly reduce ourselves to the occupation of dealers and exchange our wardrobe of respectable clothes for a draw full of balaclava’s!

I am surprised I got through customs actually, with my map featured eyes, my slurred speech and my inability to process questions fast enough to emit confidence.  Even though I could hear the person talking, my mouth refused to cooperate endangering the well being of us both. Fortunately the Australian accent still has some novelty value overseas, particularly if I reference Vegemite, Fosters and Steve Erwin all in the same sentence and finish it with maaaaaaate.

So….not much I can do about it,  being tired and more flights ahead that is….. I just have to squeeze my butt cheeks and rock back and forth in a trance like motion to get through. When I get home I will hug my wife, my kids and then I will hug my bed and be very thankful for the simple things in life.

I must go, Satan has called my flight and I am walking towards the flames.

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