Slogging

Slogging along.  In a rut.  Dragging ass.  Tired.  Lethargic.  You get my point.  I can't snap out of my post vacation malaise and get the bounce back into my step.  I stopped trying to swim against the current this afternoon and accepted my state of blues by donning my sweet pants (that's right, sweet pants, no spelling error here) and cooking a big batch of meat sauce to top off my snails pace with a huge plate of spaghetti for dinner.  It might have worked.  My family gathered for dinner, a meal that conjures up few complaints from the shorties, and good conversation and a glass of wine with my husband reset my content-o-meter.