Thwarted!

Though I am often accused of exaggerating (by my kids) and of being dramatic (by my mystery commenter), I swear that this is how the past 36 hours transpired.

On Friday, Tom, Peter and Danelle asked me if I wanted to go skiing with them on Saturday. OK, they didn't exactly ask me -- probably because after asking me for the past ten years and me saying no every single time, they'd given up. Rather, they discussed it in front of me and I interjected with "No one invited meeeee!".

(Did I mention that my mystery commenter knows me well?)

So, being the kind, polite mensches that they are (my kids know me well, too!), they asked me if I wanted to go. I figured that I've been swimming enough lately that I wouldn't kill myself skiing and I accepted -- on the condition that I could find my ski gear and fit into my ski clothes.

And that's when the "cascade of thwarts" began.

I found most of my ski gear, including my brand new skis and boots ("brand new" meaning purchased four years ago and used repeatedly by daughters and friends, but never actually by me), and then moved on to trying on ski clothes that I knew were out of style, but hoped to god fit.

Thwarted! Dammit!

One pair of pants, the ones I'd "inherited" from Mom after she died, wouldn't budge beyond my knees (bringing back all those my-mother-is-thinner-than-me insecurities) and my own bright purple pants, purchased in 1987, sat uncomfortably on my hips, displaying an undeniable five inch gap. Nope, I wouldn't be going skiing. It was, to tell you the truth, one of those depressing and distressing moments of low body image and even lower self-esteem. I announced casually (and oh, how non-casual it actually felt!) that I had no pants to wear, so wouldn't be going, but that I'd look for some after going to the gym the next day.

The next day, feeling both sorry for myself and guilty, I procrastinated as long as possible and then finally prepared to go to the gym. I went to get my swimsuit from the bathroom, but Kat was taking a shower.

Thwarted!

But not really. Easily enough, Kat interrupted her shower to hand me my suit. So I'd put my swimsuit in my gym bag and off I'd go...

But my gym bag, containing my goggles and cap, was in the car -- which was sitting in some parking lot being snowed on, somewhere in the Cascades.

Thwarted. And thwarted again!

So I couldn't go swimming. Which was a bummer because I've really come to love swimming again, gappy purple ski pants or no gappy purple ski pants. And while the "gappy" part would take a while to remedy, I could work on the "purple" part right away. I'd just hop in the car and head to TJ Maxx where I'd seen ski clothes on clearance just days before.

The car. The one containing my gym bag. In the Cascades. Being snowed on. Oh yeah.

Undeterred, I asked Kat whether she needed her car to go to work. Yup, she did. That's OK, I decided, I'd take Aleks' since he didn't have to work.

Reminder to self (and Aleks): last week's accident wiped out his front left turn signal and it's really unsafe to drive that car as is. Must fix.

Thwarted again.

So I took Kat's car, promising to be back by 5:00 so she could go to work. And off I went to TJ Maxx, where I grabbed all the (clearance priced!) ski pants I could find. I tried on pair after pair, but not one pair fit. Not even close. As in, stuck-at-the-knees not close. Just as I was about to pick out a handsome man's tie with which to hang myself (see kids' accusation, above), I realized that the pants I'd been trying on were KIDS' sizes!

Thwarted, oh so nicely, again!

I then carefully selected a few pairs of adorable white women's ski pants in my size. Or what had been my size -- and obviously no longer was. Sigh.

Thwarted yet again? No, dammit. Not thwarted this time. Just fat. And my own damn stupid fault. Sigh.

Discouraged and depressed, I headed home and made myself a salad. But I'd forgotten to pick up salad dressing at the grocery store when I was out, so thwarted again -- and hungry too.

Hell, I'll just put on my favorite jammies that fit my too-big-for-cute-ski-pants body and watch a movie in bed. I'm done with this day, I decided. But my cozy jams were in the laundry! No, worse: they were irretrievably in the laundry -- they were in the washing machine, wet and completely unavailable.

Thwarted yet again.

So I threw on my old sweats, got under the covers and grabbed the...

Dammit -- where's the remote? It was nowhere to be found. Gone amid the recesses of our fluffy German "bettdecken," or worse -- lost somewhere in the four baskets of unfolded laundry. This day really must end, I decided. I'll just listen to my iPod, which I'd just filled with great music so that...

...so that Tom could take it skiing.

TODAY must be better. It just MUST. The fact that I turned on the coffee grinder when the coffee receptacle thingy wasn't fully pushed in, then left the kitchen for a moment, only to return to finely ground coffee beans covering just about everything in the kitchen, is indicative of nothing.

Nothing, I tell you!

Sigh.