I am somewhere over northern Russia, but I can't see the country below. For a flash, I envision the Huns chasing Mulan over the mountain passes below. Far less perilous is reality; the inside of the cabin is dark, thick, and subdued. I can't tell if it is day or night outside. Four hours remain of my flight, I have watched four movies, and I've slept for 6 hours with the assistance of original formula Dramamine.
It is strange, but sitting in economy class for 14 hours is preferable to my desk at work. Self-actualization = I may be a variety addict.
I do feel a slight apprehension about whether I should have checked a bag after all. The complexity of organizing myself with all my bags in a way that allows me to walk at a normal speed and fit through the customs line may not be worth the assurance of having my tooth brush when I arrive. Only time will tell.