Please Don’t Irk the Bride


So I called Glenn at work to discuss a few wedding arrangements. He told me again how much he appreciated all that I was doing to make the wedding special. Very sweet of him. Also very wise of him.

I have reached the “It’s been lovely but I have to scream now” point in the wedding planning. Irking me at this time would be in no one’s best interest.
Is it too early in the day for a glass of wine to go with my whine? Here are a few of my top converging concerns:
The honeymoon After talking about and researching a Caribbean honeymoon since the dawn of our engagement, Glenn suddenly introduces the word “Poconos” into the discussion. Worst. Timing. Ever. I think he was kidding. I hope for his sake he was kidding.
The invitations The invitations I like are on sale. For the next two days. The budget-conscious part of me really wants to take advantage of the discount. The detail-oriented, obsessive-compulsive part of me knows there is no way I can pull everything together to make a final decision in two days. It’s not pretty when neuroses collide.
The calendar I would borrow money from a loan shark if I could buy another month of time. Even two weeks would be good. I’ve heard about brides-to-be who quit their jobs just to plan their weddings. I used to think these women were from another planet, but I’m starting to think it’s a planet I’d like to visit.
I shouldn’t complain. I have the man I love, who is on the same page as I am with most non-honeymoon related things, a sweet mother-in-law, supportive family and friends who have thus far kept the mocking to a minimum. (This is not an invitation to upgrade, by the way.)
I also have access to calm, sage advice from people who have been married for about 20 years. But I don’t need to hear from those smug wenches. I want to vent to other crazed brides getting hitched in the next few months. Preferably over drinks.
But even if I knew anyone like that, THERE’S NO TIME for frivolous get-togethers. I’ve got a multitude of emails to send, mountains of research still to do, a menu to sample, favors to find, music to select, vendors to pester, souls to search, and brows to beat. Not to mention a full-time job and a couple of ill-timed home improvement projects underway.
I shouldn’t complain, but I’m going to anyway. Seriously, where’s the corkscrew?


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