DUDES. You guys. It's September. That means I am getting married this month, which makes me happier than Heather Anne Hogan with a hoverboard, if that's possible, and I'm not sure it is.
(Speaking of Heather Anne Hogan, she's blogging again. I know. I KNOW. I peed my pants, too.)
So, anyway, it's September 1st, which means I'm getting married in 17 days, which is AWESOME because it means I can stop talking and thinking about wedding stuff soon. HELL YES. Soon I will be able to concentrate on more important things, like Max. And Joe, I suppose. Heh.
This morning as I flipped the calendar to September, I asked Joe at what point I was supposed to start getting really stressed.
"Now?" he said and I laughed because, you guys, I'M TOTALLY BREEZY. I mean, I'm excited, of course, but I cannot think of one detail that I'm really worried about because you know what? It's out of my hands. I can't control the weather. I can't control the airlines. I'm not worried about whether the napkins perfectly match the...whatever, I don't even know what they need to match. I'm not worried about the flowers or the centerpieces or whether the church looks perfect or even whether I look perfect. SUCK IT, WEDDING INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX.
Sure, there are some things I can control, but I'm not worried about them. My dress is fine, my hair appointment is booked, and all of our stuff is gathered. Stuff like board games and magnetized Scrabble tiles and fake mustaches and GUESS WHAT BITCHES? We have all of it. I don't want to brag, but we are so ready. I'm sure that will come back and bite me in the ass at some point, but I don't care. TAKE A BIG BITE, UNIVERSE, because in three weeks I will be somewhere tropical, sipping a cocktail, and laughing with MY HUSBAND JOE over a poop joke one of us made.
Last night, I started half-assing the placecards because if there's anything to half-ass, it's the placecards. We bought some at Target and I'm writing all the names because, I don't know, I like handwriting stuff? Does that make sense? Sometimes I miss being in school because I don't get to take notes much anymore (not even in meetings because nothing important ever happens in meetings where I work) and I LOVE taking notes. I should start handwriting my first drafts of everything but that sounds like a lot of work so I probably won't do it.
Anyway, let's talk about more interesting things LIKE MAX. He's still being SO GOOD even though he really doesn't like going in his cage. But that could be because we have to put this inflatable donut thing around his neck so he doesn't lick his ball-removal stitches all day long while we're not home. I'm sure he'll get over it. Right? Please say yes.
He and Phoebe are still getting along, if you can call it that. She is a tiny bit braver around him, meaning she waits 10 seconds to run away from him instead of 5 seconds, and he still just walks right by her without noticing her. Maybe he is cat blind. Or maybe Phoebe knows how to invisible herself! PHOEBE IS A SUPERHERO. I wonder if she has a cape and if so, if she'd let me borrow it. Or if it would even fit. She has a tiny neck. Tinier than Max's and I know my neck is just slightly bigger than Max's because I tried on his e-collar and it didn't fit but only barely.
Um. Yeah. Maybe the wedding planning is good for me, because without it, I apparently have way too much time on my hands.