Skiing: My Arch Nemesis

It's April second (shoutout to Redhead, whose birthday was yesterday!) and although I am trying to convince myself otherwise, the ski season is almost over.

No, really, it is. Almost. And I can feel it. I can see it on the faces of the lift operators, and the ticket sellers, on the mountain as trees and rocks poke through the snow, and in the stores, as they sell last year's demo skis for a tenth of a price of their November 2006 MRSP.

Ah, skiing.

Skiing takes me away from my troubles, both literally, as it's a road trip every weekend, and figuratively, as I can't concentrate on anything while skiing except, well, skiing. Sitting at my desk or at home, my mind races; on the slopes, my mind is transparently clear. Instead of the brain gerbils clattering around on their exercise wheel, all I can hear is the swish of my skis on the snow and the occasional hiss-thump, going over a mogul.

At the same time, though, skiing means my dog languishes at home, the dog hair piles up, my mail goes unopened, my bills go unpaid, magazine subscriptions are wasted, and library books (and Blockbuster DVDs) rack up huge late fees. I never thought I would say this, but I am looking forward to the end of ski season.

This season, by the numbers

Days I have skiied: Roughly 20.
Weekend days I have had available for skiing: 38.

I am damn tired.

Dollars, roughly, I have spent on lift tickets: 825.
Dollars, roughly, I have spent on gas: 600. (Assuming an average gallon price of 3 dollars, including all the times I bought gas in Canada, and a Helter MPG of 16.)
Dollars, roughly, I have spent on food: $450. (Assuming 30 dollars per day for snacks, lunch, breakfast, liquor, and restaurants, probably lowballed.)
Total number of dollars I spent skiing, this season: $1873.

Number of shoes this equals, at an average shoe price of 30 dollars a pair: 90.

NINETY PAIRS OF BRAND-NEW SHOES.

Number of lattes this equals, assuming five dollars a latte: 360.

HOWEVER. Number of hours of therapy this equals, assuming 200 dollars an hour: only nine!

A bargain!

My God.

Dewey, who has not yet agreed to be my adopted big sister, just wrote this post about how behind she was in her financial arena, shall we say.

You could take this post, substitute, "my life" for every mention of "money", and you'd have MY post for today.

I moved into my apartment two months ago. Since then, I have been out of town twice, had house guests, and obviously, gone skiing every weekend I wasn't either out of town or entertaining my Little. Yesterday, for the very first time, I moved the TV stand from where the CABLE GUY had put it when he was hooking up my cable. The LT and I have been watching movies on it like that for a month and a half, and it never occurred to me that it might work better in a different spot. Tonight, I might, for the very first time, sweep my apartment. This week, I might, for the very first time, actually combine my huge iPod library onto one computer, so that I might update my iPod for the first time ever, the end, amen. I have skied all season--for the past six damn months--with the same tunes, because I haven't been able to carve out time for myself to even update my own iPod. Meanwhile, my boyfriend and all his friends are listening to brand new tunes that I provided them.

Excuse me. Was that bitter?

Ah, well. Today is a brand new day. It's sunny, I have joined a gym, I have made an appointment with a personal trainer, and most importantly, I have COMBED the Martha Stewart Living archives. I will spring clean if it kills me.

*Drinks more coffee.*