After coming back home from Chicago, my bags sat in the middle of my room, still packed for almost a week. Taunting me. Judging me. Some of that procrastination had to do with being back to work right away. Most of it, however, was unadulterated laziness. Exhaustion.
I did, however, finally manage to get my self fully unpacked and settled. And just like that, Saturday morning, I was up at 8am, stuffing my bags again, this time with everything I imagined I might need in preparation for a wedding. Safety pins. Someone might tear something. Make-up. All of it. Tooth brush. Don't want bad breath to make it down the aisle first. Zebra cakes. A girl's got to eat.
If you think I'm joking about the zebra cakes, you don't know me at all.
I'm sitting now in bed, looking at the different bags that still have my hastily shoved away belongings, feeling a little bit fragmented as I take in the sight. For the past couple of weeks, I've had the feeling, that I don't know where anything is. I have that worry that maybe I've left something behind somewhere. But still, unpacking is overwhelming. It's the pain of packing with none of the promise of adventure.
Anyways, I'm tired. The wedding was surreal. Maybe it was because my little cousin Pistene, Sailor Mercury, the one who never liked to wear dresses or comb her hair, the one who made it her little-kid-life-mission to teach us other cousins games like football and poker, got married. Maybe it was because I was so exhausted I was half asleep through some of it. Probably both.
I'm trying to think of a way to incorporate a nap time into my hypothetical future wedding. Probably sometime after the cocktail hour and before the bouquet toss.
I freakin' hate the bouquet toss. I'm pretty much not a fan of anything that starts with, "alright, all you single ladies..." I'm probably missing the whole traditional point, but I have yet to witness a bouquet toss that isn't coated in a thin layer of awkward desperation.
My Daddy-o was actually the MC for this wedding, and of course he took the opportunity to call my little sister and me out by name, and make some awesome, "please dear sweet Jesus let them get married soon," jokes. And of course, my awesome cousin, threw the bouquet directly to the corner where I was half hiding behind the cake table. The stupid thing landed at my feet, but luckily I sidestepped it to the great amusement of all in attendance.
Despite that moment, I was thankfully spared from too much, "when are you..." and "still single, huh?"s. I did get a number of sympathetic looks, though, but I took a deep sip of wine for each one.
It's funny to me, that as we get older, this gap of 3 years between the family closest to me in age keeps getting smaller. When I was 7 and Pistene and Vye were 4, the difference was noticeable in every way. When they were 12 and I was 15, the difference to me was insurmountable. Now that they are 22 and I'm (nearly. one week left.) 25, the difference is as small as it's ever been. I'm pretty sure when we're 97 and 100, we'll barely notice at all.
I really did have a good time though. And because baby Jesus loves me, it's a much needed day off today.
This is a pretty short post. Maybe this whole, "I'm going to regularly post twice a week thing," will mean I'll stop leaving a millionty things for one post which will then result in me writing a millionty words! Maybe I'm just tired. Have I said that I'm tired? Too tired to unpack. My head. SEE WHAT I DID THERE? A metaphor, ya'll. Unpacking is like blogging. You're welcome.
Okay. I'm done now.
Please don't leave any, "don't let people pressure you about marriage because it'll happen when you least expect it, blah, blah, blah," comments because every time you do, I'll be forced to find a puppy and kick it. Don't make me kick puppies guys. Don't make me.
"When you least expect it" has to be up there with, "just give it time," on the list of worst advice ever. We're all guilty. We all deserve to be punched in the teeth.
Otherwise, comment away! On weddings, bouquet tosses, or packing or unpacking or how much you like my face.
Because I like all of yours.