Just when you think you’ve gotten through your to-do list, there’s another list. And damn if there isn’t more to do on it.
People say that marriage is a marathon and not a sprint. I believe that. I’ve also started to think of wedding-panning as a test of endurance. To get you ready for the marathon. Last week, I failed that test.
But I got a lot of reading done. In bed. While drinking coffee and pretending I was 12. The 12 year-old me was home sick from school with a cold, but without a wedding to plan.
She didn’t care about cake-toppers or declines. Because really, those declines are like ripping band-aids off, and who wants to do that?
Unless you’re 32. And planning a wedding. And it’s courtesy for other people to tell you they can’t make it. You get to the point where you don’t want to look at the postcards that come through the door. Your heart leaps with a yes, and the same heart is ripped out with a no.
And then you eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
These are just some of the questions I asked Sarge last week: Did we tell the cake people I hate marzipan? Did we thank them for the gift? Wanna elope? Do we have any beer?
That’s where we are. But at least I’m sharing my Ben & Jerry’s. My Maid of Honour got some on Tuesday when she came over and asked if there was anything left to do.
‘Get married,’ I said.
And so, to use another metaphor, as we enter the final stretch I’m visualising the look on Sarge’s face when I get down the aisle. Because at that moment there won’t be any guests, or cake. There will be butterflies. And some penguins. That’s what matters. That’s what I’m looking forward to, the official stuff. The real stuff.
That, and the honeymoon. Because, y’know, ‘book honeymoon’ has been checked off the to-do list.
That’s a big one. Any couple that still wants to get married after planning a wedding deserves a honeymoon.
Bruges and Barcelona, here we come!
Dues cerveses, si us plau…