“I’m so bummed out,” Beth complained as she sat at a table in the lodge drinking her hot toddy. “How long have we planned this ski trip and look what happens. Seems the only luck we have these days is bad luck.”
“I know, babe,” Aaron said, taking a sip from his Irish coffee mug. “Our timing really sucks. I can’t believe that they closed all of the trails and shut down the lifts just because of a little fog.”
“Well, it’s not just a little fog, sweetie,” Beth said. “It’s like pea soup out there. You can’t see a foot in front of your face. It would be dangerous to try to ski in these conditions.”
“Yeah, I know,” Aaron admitted. “But we spent a bundle on this trip and because of this thick fog that has settled over the entire resort area, we can’t take advantage of the world-class slopes and the majestic views. And who knows when, or even if, we’ll be able to get back here.”
“We’ll just have to make the best of a bad situation,” Beth said, flashing an amorous smile at her fiancé.
Aaron grinned and playfully said, “Well, my dear, do you have anything specific in mind?”
“Why don’t we walk back to our cabin,” Beth said, “We can throw some logs into the fireplace, get comfy, and see if we can figure out a way to, um, lift the fog, if you get my drift.”
“Oh, I get your drift, all right,” Aaron said. He quickly finished his Irish coffee, paid the tab, grabbed Beth’s hand, and said, “You know, I’m starting to feel a whole lot better about being fogged in.”
Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Photo credit: Luca Nardone on Pexels.com.