OK Universe, You and Me, Outside. Now.

It probably wasn't true, but yesterday I genuinely thought the universe was working against me.

I had to go to Washington, D.C. for a conference, which is something I get to do a couple of times a year. This time I only really had to be there for one session, which was in the middle of the day on Friday, so I decided to go up and back on the same day. When I made that decision it seemed like a good idea. In reality, not so much.

Now, I had no way of knowing when I made my arrangements that just days before my trip there would be an ice storm that would literally throw the entire airline system - truly every airline you can imagine - into chaos. If I had been thinking though I probably would have realized it was the Friday before a holiday weekend and school vacation week. therefore making it a day of misery to fly.

Unfortunately I wasn't thinking, and instead booked myself on a 7 a.m. flight out and a 7 p.m. flight home.

I don't go on a lot of business trips. Truth be told I've probably only gone to about 4 or 5 in my whole career, most of them to DC, and usually for no more than a day or two. They can be rushed and chaotic, but there is something wonderful about getting the chance to travel alone with no carseats, portable DVD players or bags of toys to lug -- or, of course, children. So, when I get the chance, if my husband's schedule will allow, I usually jump at it. And if it's just a day trip, all the better -- no luggage at all.

So, ever the dutiful working mom, I set the alarm for 4 a.m., got up and reset it for my husband, and got ready to go. I was out the door by 4:45, at the airport by 5:15, checked in and at the gate with my book, iPod, 2 newspapers, tea and a donut by 6 a.m. I found myself a comfy chair and settled in for what I thought would be a short wait.

At 6:45 I wandered over to the desk to see why they hadn't called my flight yet and was told they would call it any minute. At 7:15 they told me the same thing. At 7:45 they told me the truth: that my flight was held up because there was no flight attendant. It seems two days of ice had led to 2 days of cancelled flights, which had backed everything - and everyone - up. "Any minute," they said.

I should have known. Right then, at that moment, I should have just listened to what the universe was very clearly trying to tell me, packed my things and gone home. After all, it was just one meeting, not such an important one, and they really wouldn't miss me. But I sat back down, and waited. And waited. And waited.

At 10:15 my plane finally boarded, and we landed at 11:40 a.m., giving me 20 minutes to hop a cab and make my meeting.

I made it, the meeting was fine, and my part was done by 2 p.m. And after the morning I'd had, I decided I just wanted to go home and not hang around for another 5 hours. So I called my travel agent to see if she could change the ticket, but she said everything was booked. Resigned to my fate, I went to the Air and Space Museum and the Museum of Natural History and wandered around. A few hours later I hopped a cab and set off for the airport, ready to find another comfy chair and await my flight at 7 p.m.

But again, something - or someone - was working against me yesterday. My phone rang, and it was my coworker, who was flying home with me. "Our flight's been cancelled," he said.

Anyone who knows me knows that when I have to, I can - as my husband likes to call it - "get my Heidi up." I can usually get us a table in an overbooked restaurant or get the attention of a stressed out cashier. So I gathered my strength in the cab, prepared to talk us onto whatever plane I could. I didn't care what happened - we were going home.

My husband told me I was nuts. "Get a hotel room, take yourself to dinner and come home tomorrow," he said. All day he had been hearing on the news about the airlines in chaos, and didn't want me walking into another disaster. But again, I didn't listen. All I could think of was my own house, my own family, my own bed, and taking off my damn business suit.

In the end, everything worked out. I stood in line for about two hours, argued with anyone who would listen, briefly considered renting a car to drive home and nearly wore out my cell phone with calls to any airline whose number I could recall. But finally, I landed myself a standby ticket on a direct flight to Boston, and miraculously, I got on.

I got home around 9 p.m., 17 hours after waking up. On my way home I drove through KFC, something I never do, but felt I deserved. The rest of the way I looked forward to my first bite of those creamy, buttery, really-bad-for you mashed potatoes. I got in and opened up the bag and - no surprise - they gave me macaroni and cheese instead.

The moral of my story: no more day trips to DC, no more flying Delta, and absolutely no more KFC. Ever.