Feeling a little too grown-up

I'm not a fan of Edna St. Vincent Millay as a person, but I just ran across this poem, entitled Grown-up, and I like it a lot.

Was it for this that I uttered prayers,
And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs,
That now, domestic as a plate,
I should retire at half-past-eight?

I had to laugh.
I've been back from Haiti for a little over a week. We arrived home at about midnight last Friday. The next morning, I had to be at a music therapy conference from 8:30 till 5pm. Same thing on Sunday. It was a great conference, full of thought-provoking stuff, but I barely made it through the Sunday session. All that sitting, three days in a row, nearly did me in, in spite of the therapeutic knitting that engaged my fingers all the day long.

I worked a lot this week, but every evening I have been just sitting. It took until Wednesday for the jet-lag haze to visibly clear. Every morning, I woke up at four. Every night, I was falling asleep by eight.
Sad.
Now, I think I'm coming down with another cold. 
I may have to find another line of work. All those adorable, snotty-nosed preschoolers will be the death of me!

Well, maybe not!

But seriously, it doesn't seem that long ago that Jeff and I would frequently go out dancing at night, or hiking and bike-riding on Saturdays. What has happened to us?

I'm feeling stodgy, old, and unmotivated.
I think I need a party.
Anyone?

A cheery thought from Ogden Nash.

At another year
I would not boggle,
Except when I jog
I joggle.

Maybe tomorrow I will get my mojo back.
After I joggle.