Pearls of Wisdom and Foolish Mutterings

Once Upon an Auction

After the much ballyhooed announcement a few days ago of the AD36 fat virus, I've been faithfully monitoring the news for any further developments. And by faithfully monitoring, I mean occasionally thinking about it when I happen to catch a bit of news between Nip/Tuck and Leno. I'm here to report to you today... NOTHING. Not another word have I heard uttered about the AD 36 fat virus. That's right, not one syllable. Yeah, I knew it had to be too good to be true. Those darn scientists - always getting our hopes up and then callously dashing them against the rocks.

Here's the problem. In a fit of what can only be described as Auction Insanity, Hubby and I (and by Hubby and I, I mean me) bid on and *gasp* WON... wait for it, because this is worth it... a FIVE DAY White Water Rafting Excursion for two. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.  HA.  H. A.
I won't even tell you what we paid for it, but it was not cheap. Well, it was inexpensive in the grand scheme of things. We got it for a lot less than we would have if we had, say, gone to a travel agent and booked it. Which of course, we would never have done, because we have better sense than that. Well, one of us does, anyway. And it's not me, apparently.

I think I was so caught up in the auction fever that I forgot how old I am when I was bidding. And I obviously failed to take note of the shocked look on the faces of our friends at the table. Or perhaps I mistook their look of shock for looks of Yeah, Go for it! I don't really know what happened, but when all was said and done, I won that package. I'm surprised Hubby didn't knock me out of my chair or something to stop the insanity. I think he was in a state of shock. The first thing he said to me after the auctioneer said, SOLD! was, "You know we're going to have to lose a crap-load of weight, right?" Even that didn't dampen my enthusiasm at that moment. I replied, "Yeah, so what? We can do that."

Then I took the manila envelope the prize package was in home with me, put it on my dresser and promptly forgot all about it. That was four months ago, maybe five. I don't even know where the envelope is now. I even looked for it this morning and can't find it anywhere. Of course, it's probably one of those things I put away so it wouldn't get misplaced, never to be seen again. Which I wouldn't mind too bad, except that I know Hubby won't forget. Not forever, anyway.

The thought crossed my mind that I could just neglect to ever mention it again, hoping Hubby would follow suit. But that won't work, because it involves money. Sooner or later, this is what will happen. I will be sleeping peacefully in the early morning hours of some day in the future and Hubby will bolt out of bed with his mind in hyper-vigilant, people-to-see, places-to-go mode. He will open his mouth and these words will tumble out in rapid-fire, drill sergeant fashion, "You know that white water rafting trip we bought is next week, right? Where's the package? Have you bought all the stuff we need? Have you confirmed with them? Have you lost all the weight we both needed to lose? Have you made sure we won't die from exertion? Are our wills up-to-date?"

Then I will pick a fight with him for waking me in such a rude manner (hoping all along to divert his attention from said white-water-rafting trip.) My tactic will only work as far as pissing him off so that he doesn't speak to me for the next week while I rush around and get stuff ready for the stupid trip that I bought when I must surely have been smoking crack. Then we will haul both of our hefty rear-ends off to wherever the heck this place is (No, I don't remember where it is - I told you, I can't find the package to look it up.)

For the next five days, I will barely speak to Hubby, even though he will have thawed from his chilly treatment of me by then and will attempt friendly conversation on several occasions. But I will be too upset to speak kindly to him because I will be in fear for my life, knowing that if I fall in the water (which I surely will do because I have failed to build any stamina since I stupidly bought this package) I will sink straight to the bottom like a lead weight. Wait! Doesn't fat float? Maybe I have some hope after all.

No matter, though. Because even if I survive the first day, Hubby will spend the next four days tagging me with killer stares and asking me, in his most sarcastic voice,  what I was thinking when I bought this trip.

You know, he has a point. What was I thinking? And where is that envelope? For all I know, the trip really is next week.


Thanks a lot, Dan. After your comment, now this is all I can think about.