Reasons why I hate my closet

1. It's not actually in my bedroom. Harvard architecture at its finest.

2. It's darker than subterranean cave. Like, for real. I shouldn't have to use a snake lamp to illuminate my clothing. BUT I DO. It's only a matter of time before stalactites form and bats rush at me when I open the door.

Oh look at that. It's my closet.

3. The great shoe disaster - This is comparable to when the laundry machine eats one sock and leaves its mate behind. My closet frequently eats just one of my shoes. I swear, my closet is host to a kraken that pulls my belongings into its inky depths.

GIVE ME BACK MY SHOES.

4. It's full of crap, yet doesn't contain the portal to a mystical world. I know it's not a wardrobe, BUT STILL.

Best.Closet.Ever.

5. Pitch dark + epic mess of shoes = April spending an inordinate amount of time staring at the ground and rifling through a mess. Upon standing up, vertigo ensues, I want to barf, and I'm forced to re-acclimate my eyes to standard lighting. Solution: Sue my closet for medical costs.

Teach me your ways, Bill O'Reilly.

Tired, slightly windburned, and very happy

And FINALLY, my skiing season started. It certainly took long enough, considering we're almost halfway through January and I just now made it to a mountain. Mount Snow, that is. I've visited the resort at least once per year since I was about 9 years old, always on a bus trip through my town's parks and rec. committee (yeah, the ski trips are pretty much the best thing my town does all year). I love me some group-discount tickets. Here are a few ups and downs, because I refuse to believe in complete perfection:



Epic wins:

• Fresh, ungroomed powder
• Continuous natural snow throughout the day (but not so much that I couldn't see)
• An entire day of skiing. Enough said.
• Sitting next to an attractive ski instructor from Berkshire East on a lift
• Getting the gold chair on one of the lifts on the North Face
• Bruised shins - I love battle scars
• New snow pants and mittens  (mittens > gloves)
• Moguls that actually had snow left on them (much preferred to the icy bumps that are generally left around at the end of the season)

Only pansies stay inside during wintertime. 

Epic Fails:

• Gale force winds and slow lifts
• Hoards of children wanting to show off their MAD SKILLZ because it was "youth pay their age day" GET OFF OF MY LAWN.
• Totally eating it...on a lift trail where lots of people could watch and laugh
• Waking up at 5am to catch the bus. And consequently becoming Queen B*tch, from the land of "I Hate Everyone and Everything" for the next couple of hours.

Deliver me from misery.

Furthermore, skiing makes me feel like I'm exploring in Narnia (major props to my girl Izabel here). I love the snowy evergreens and scampering and fluttering wildlife. I like thin, secluded trails and interesting glades. I've never gotten to a ski resort through a wardrobe, but I'll find Narnia, yet. Wait for it... Bring on the Turkish fudge and the ice castle.

And I'll be best friends with Mr. Tumnus. Obviously.

Okay, so now that I've presented myself as slightly neurotic and enamored with mythical snowy lands, who wants to rent a zip car for a day and go skiing with me once we get back to school? I won't even talk about Narnia. Much.