So while I was bitching about my day last Friday, what I wasn’t telling you was that I was also distracted by the fact that I was leaving for a week on the ski slopes about 36 hours later. It’s tough for me to get enough days off in a row during the ski season to squeeze in a trip without royally upsetting my employer, but I worked out four days in the Colorado Rockies.

Y’all, it was amazing. Except for two things.

I’ve been sitting here in the B concourse at Denver International Airport for nine hours. NINE. Four and a half of those hours were by unfortunate design since I had to be out of the condo by 11 a.m. but my deal-of-a-straight-through-flight didn’t leave until 5 p.m. (with a two-hour drive in between).

The other five hours have been an unexplained delay. There’s no weather issues here. The plane I was supposed to leave the airport on arrived on time, but for some reason got whisked away for another flight. The plane I’m now scheduled to leave the airport on is halfway between Denver and Louisville, Ky., after leaving four hours late. After changing three times, the departure time is now sitting at 9:45ish MST, which puts me arriving in Knoxville somewhere around 2:30 EST in the morning — assuming we depart at all.

Oh, and I have to work tomorrow afternoon. Yeah, whoops.

I’d had about 15 years of good flying luck until some wacky delays on our honeymoon in June. Every trip since has been screwy. I thought I’d nip it in the bud this time by going the straight-through flight route, but no such luck.

Aside from being panicked about getting to work on time tomorrow, I royally miss my husband. Yeah, I know, I shouldn’t have gone skiing without him. There was no chance of us being off work at the same time for six days in a row. I went with my parents because I love going skiing with them, and because they pay for a place for me to lay my head, which makes it affordable for me to go. I loved every minute I spent with them, and I loved every minute on the slopes. I also felt terrible about leaving him behind and have missed him like crazy every single day.

I usually love sitting in airports, watching the world go by. It’s as if time stands still while you’re sitting there and people are rushing to and from their gates, with overlapping PA announcements competing for their attention. But as the airport has gradually emptied and the hours tick off the clock, my heart just hurts more and more to be at home wrapped up in the arms of the Modern Love Machine. I don’t know if distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it certainly makes you more heartsick.

My parents, who were bound for Memphis by way of Little Rock, made it home four hours ago. In the mean time, I’ve done almost all of my schoolwork for the week, nearly cleaned out my blogreader, ate twice, edited some photos (I’ll share those in a separate post), listened to a podcast and blogged this post.

I just want to be home with my hubby.

I’d settle for a pillow and a teddy bear for the next two hours.