There are some mornings where I just don't feel like skiing.
I know, I know.
This sounds horrible and should really never be something that enters my mind or crosses my lips.
But there it is.
This morning was almost a disaster.
Barely getting any sleep last night, this mornings alarm immediatly filled me with thoughts of work. I have three double shifts to get through the holiday weekend, and I was thinking how exhasuted I was - even starting to come up with excuses as to why I wasn't gonna ski. I leaned over to see if Vespi was moving yet, hoping to use her as yet another reason why we weren't getting out of bed. Then I tried pulling back the curtain, perhaps it really was raining as the forecasts had foreseen. I rubbed my eyes, exhausted from all the reading I've been doing at work, you know, cause it's buying season. Plus, the day after a powder day is never as good as the day before.
And then, the boyfriend rolls over and looks at me,
"Aren't you going skiing this morning?"
And I answered:
And so we did.
And it was groomilicious.
(with a yummy edible crust - per Vespi)
May You Find the Spirit of the Mountains Within You,