Slogging along

I got in pretty late last night after three long days of flying and one overnight. (In Gulfport, where I got a chance to walk the marina in the morning and look at boats.) We drag raced a little cold front into the airport near Indy; landing just before the winds and rain lashed at the runway. Then we flew home in night, IMC skies, buried in clouds and even picking up a little ice. Normally this is one of my favorite things to do but last night I was feeling the miles, nursing a headache, and flying with a slight fever. 

Somewhere over Nashville (on the first leg) the FMS was telling me we were doing 415 knots over the ground. You couldn't prove it by me. It felt like we were suspended motionless in a sky that wasn't changing. The only things that appeared to be moving at all were the fuel gauges. Instead of being fun it was mostly a slog. I was glad to finally pull up in front of the house.

I need to head off in a little while for another full day of chasing paperwork around but I am still dragging from yesterday. So this will be a day of slogging along, not thinking too far ahead, just getting finished with the current task, making the next step, and then doing the next thing. Eventually I will get to the end of the day and then to the end of the week. I don't like just slogging along. (Like this election. Does anyone else feel like we are never going to get to the end of this thing?) What is good about slogging along is that we are still moving. Even a slog is progress. Right now I am making progress toward a weekend with Deb on our little Nomad. It may be a slog, it may seem like nothing is moving but the fuel gauge, but it will get me there. Sometimes that is the best we can do and, for today, it is good enough.