I sat down yesterday and figured out that I can spare a couple vacation days to ski in January. (I used a spreadsheet, of course I did; I’m an accountant at heart, no matter what my business card says.) Yay! But then Mr. Karen called the lodge where he’s staying with rest of the group and found that it’s all booked up for those nights, at least in the rooms that are in our price range. (Since we splurged on lodging in Japan, splurging again just so I can ski a few more days this season is not going to happen.) Boo.
Okay, I thought, so I can’t stay where my husband is staying, but maybe I can stay somewhere else and just meet up with him to ski. That’s unconventional, but it could work. So I poked around on the web and found that there seem to be plenty of affordable rooms in Salt Lake City. That’s not ideal, especially if there’s a powder day and the canyon gets closed and I can’t get to the ski areas, but it’s a heck of lot closer to the slopes than staying home in Detroit would be. So, qualified yay.
Then I looked at airfares. Close to $400, and that’s for the crappy times when no sane person (at least not one who has limited vacation time to work with) wants to fly. No freaking way I am paying that much, and I just know that using miles at this late date is right out. Big boo. So it looks like I’m not skiing in January, unless I go somewhere local, and that’s a pretty poor substitute what with the time spent on the lift often exceeding the time it takes to ski down the hill. Double boo.
I really wish I remember why it was I thought I couldn’t go back when everyone else booked this trip. Mr. Karen tells me I told him that I didn’t want to use that many vacation days on skiing. Was I crazy? Or am I forgetting some important commitment I have next year? I don’t think I was planning a secret getaway. Maybe I kept it a secret even from myself. I hope I’m going somewhere nice, with lots of quilt stores and cheese shops.
Wah, wah, wah. Poor me, I can’t go skiing out west in January. I know should feel fortunate that I have the luxury of whining about this sort of thing, but right now I don’t. Right now I’m pouting. Right now I’m jealous of my husband for getting to have fun when I won’t. Talk about petty. And in this season of generosity and joy, too. Maybe I can cheer myself up by planning our February trip.
A year ago, I gave my state of the toenails address. This year, I think I just might have escaped the ugly nail issues. So far, no bruising, and my toes barely hurt at all even in the ski boots. I guess my life isn’t so terrible after all. (I’m just begging for karma to smack me upside the head, aren’t I?)
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