Jet Lag Blues, Wouldn't Change a Thing

For a long time I have never fought off the Devil called jet lag, the curse of travelers. Four continents in the span of a few weeks has apparently broken that chain of good luck, inevitably the pay back comes, like a velvet glove striking the skull. Still the bizarre blue and grey skies here in the Hudson River Valley keep the spacey blues at bay. The chance to actually cook my own meal and flick through channels is an undeniable pleasure; I am off the stage for a bit. The motley colored maple leaves clinging to my boots add sparkle to the wide pine planked floors as I dump firewood into the pine box. The glow of a warm fire reminds me that I am back. Duties simple and plain are the order of the day; New Guinea is in the future, simple pleasures please.