The City that Never Sleeps
New York City turned me into the Taylor that never sleeps. And the Taylor that never sleeps is not a pleasant person to be around (Megan and Hannah are angels for putting up with me). I probably got a grand total of 12 hours of sleep from Wednesday night to Saturday morning. When we boarded the plane from Newark to O'hare Saturday morning at 6:45 AM I vaguely remember taking off, jabbing that seat-back button as soon as I was allowed to do so, and drifting off until I was jarred awake by our landing in Chicago. It was a much needed nap, since I was getting to that point of dizziness in my lack of sleep and I needed to be a alert to navigate the three hour layover at O'hare. Believe me, I had an unbelievable time. New York is a true treasure. But it's a treasure that comes at a cost of high stress and exertion. Walking all day long (if I hadn't counteracted all that exercise with endless slices of pizza I could likely fit into my old jeans by now--but I'm not worri...