It took a while, but I eventually managed to pull myself off the pity pot on which I was wallowing, took my hand out of the Cheddar Cheese and Sour Cream Baked Ruffles bag, licked off the extra cheese, dusted off the biscotti crumbs, and hauled my ass over to the pool. In terms of effort, that alone should qualify me for a some type of Ironman medal.
However, prior to the pool, I did my laundry, and nothing feel better to me than a warm hooded sweatshirt, right from the dryer. I pulled it on, shoved my gym id into the front pocket and left. When I arrived to check in, I pulled the id out and handed it over to the front desk lady. It was only as I was reaching across the desk did I realize that a pair of black thong underwear had snuck into the pocket while in the dryer, attached themselves to the id and were now waving hello to the poor id-swiper. Her, as well as the whole sales team that sit to the side of the front desk, all the people waiting to check in behind me, and the scores of individuals sweating away on the gym floor right over my shoulder. Waving like a 10-year-old on a float at the Macy's Thanksgiving day Parade. Awesome. Truly, truly awesome.
The only thing that might, MIGHT be worse was when my sister showed up to traffic court to plead her case, only to find her own thong underwear attached to velcro of her jacket (taken right the dryer, as well) while standing in front of the judge.
Note to self - Underwear in one cycle, rest of clothes in another. Might take some extra time, but might save a whole lotta pain the future.