In a Rut

I’ve made the transition from being a happy creature of habit to being in a rut. I’m restless. Bored. In a bit of a funk. I need more than my annual, non-surgical spring facelift. I’m not going to quit my job and go backpacking across the country or anything, nor would I do anything crazy like cut my hair and get rid of my nails, but my daffodils and new tablecloths and fish tacos aren’t working anymore. I used to be able to count on any and all of them for a quick-fix trick, but not this year.

I don’t just want to sit around and be miserable; I know some of this is within my control. I’m trying new things and trying to break out of old habits. I try not to stay in all day on Sunday; I actually leave the house other than to go to the gym. I got new glasses. Not for cocktails, but eyeglasses. I don’t always order the same thing when I go to my regular restaurant. Erika and Shannon have to ask what I’m drinking these days; no automatic cabernet pours for me! Woo hoo! And last weekend in Boston I tried two—not one, but two—new restaurants. And, and—get this: I walked out of Crate and Barrel without a buying a thing. Crazy, hu? Hardly.

I’m not looking for wild and crazy, though. I’m just trying to figure out what can help me out of this funk and make me a little happier than I am. Other than a remission diagnosis for Donna, that is.

That I know would definitely do the trick.