I don't like to leave any situation with The Foliage without finishing with "I love you." Because what if something awful happens? What if, after he drops me off at the metro station* the train derails or he gets hit by a car on the way to work? Then something other than "I love you" would've been the last thing we'd said to one another! Which is seriously terrifying. Even if we're having a huge disagreement in the car, we will repeat this back to one another. If I die, he will not have to be paranoid/feel guilty about that argument forever and ever. He will know that I love(d) him.
Which is why it was really weird that I slammed my car door shut and sped away from him yesterday at approximately 5pm without mentioning love or any other such nonsense.
Which gave me pause as I did it, because I reeeeeeally hate leaving situations that way (see above) but OMG I was so mad! Like, drop-kicking puppies mad. Smacking ice cream out of kids' hands mad. I guess I should back up.
Step 1 of my life: Buy a car (in 2006, yes you need time travel, suck it up)
Step 2: Receive title for car upon final payment of loan
Step 3: Don't put that title in the car! Dad says not to do that! Put it somewhere else.
Step 4: Get to 2011, plan a wedding, include the proceeds from sale of the car in wedding budget, then realize you have no idea where the title is
Step 5: Find 2 buyers for car who are so interested in it they get into a bidding war and end up offering asking price
Step 6: After checking and double-checking that the DMV will release the title to someone other than yourself, send your spouse-elect to get it
Step 7: Receive text message that not one DMV worker thinks your signature on the form looks like your signature in their system. Receive subsequent phone call explaining there's nothing you can do from Washington, DC.
Step 8: Take an unexpected half-day to drive to Delaware
Step 9: Receive text message from spouse-elect that he's at the DMV "by the airport"
Step 10: Totally drive to the RIGHT DMV. The one everyone ever uses and is super efficient. The one near the airport.
Step 11: Realize your beloved is not there. In fact, he's at the dumbest DMV ever to have been built, ever. In the 11 years you've known the state of Delaware, containing MANY trips to multiple DMVs, you've never even heard of this one.
Step 12: Drive - angrily - to the f*cking stupidest DMV of life, no thanks to your betrothed's gawd-awful directions**
Step 13: Walk in. Luckily your to-be-spouse is already at the counter so you don't have to wait. Throw your license at the DMV employee.
Step 13.5: Be scolded by DMV employee for throwing license
Step 13.6: Resist urge to physically assault and verbally humiliate DMV employee. But only because it would probably make you cry, not because of the interest in humanity or any legal repercussions.
Step 14: Grab paperwork and storm out of DMV
Step 15: When spouse-elect comes up to your car and says to "get a grip" before you come home, slam the door and peal the eff OUT.
Step 16: While running (miraculously) ahead of schedule for (final) wedding gown fitting, glance down at GPS map, then look up. Then rear-end the car in front of you in your exit lane.
Step 17: Cry hysterically immediately and continually for the next 2 hours. And then every time your unfortunate life partner mentions anything remotely related to the day's incidents.
-Have a fiance who is beyond compassionate and isn't even mad at you, even though all of those steps (with special emphasis on 4 and 16) are entirely your fault. Except maybe 7. Number 7 is a total f*cker.
-Reschedule your stupid final dress fitting for stupid next week.
-Notify the would-be car-purchasers that their dream has been smashed lolz!
-Maybe get some really questionable Korean soup.
-I really hope you made sure to hit the car of someone super important at a super important company, driving with a similarly important friend! And that they would probably be good life-connections to have, if you could only speak for 5 seconds without breaking into heaving sobs! You did? Oh, good.
I would like to note that I have made it VERY CLEAR that I don't like to drive, and I don't think I should be allowed to operate any vehicles, ever. And also that by the time I got into the accident, I had calmed down and was even maybe kind of happy again. So 3ish hours of driving with rage? Totes safe. Calm? BAM.
But. Today I am much better. And even though I'm always aware of how blessed we are, I was sort of smacked in the face with it. Bless-slapped, if you will. We are so, so blessed. Or lucky, if that's your expression of choice. Whatever it is. I do not deserve the awesomeness that envelops me, but GEEZ there's always so much of it everywhere. So...awesome? Also I'll never chance it and skip an "I love you" EVER AGAIN. Whew.
*YES our apartment is across the street from the metro but WHATEVER don't judge me. **"Immediately on the right past the gas station" isn't helpful in an area with more gas stations than people, and when the direction of approach is undetermined.*** ***Also I said not to f*cking text me again. That does not mean "except for directions because clearly I can't look them up myself." It means NOT AT ALL.
Me: We still have to choose the Old Testament reading.
The Foliage: Oh, right. What were our final options, again?
Me: Song of Songs "set me as a seal upon your heart" and Ruth "your people will be my people"
The Foliage: Hmm...I don't know. I don't really care, I guess.
Me: Yeah, same here. Let's go with Ruth.
The Foliage: How did you choose that?
Me: I like the letter "R" better than "S"
The Foliage: Oh, right. Of course.
I've been reading all the Harry Potter books lately, and since I read every day on my commute to and from work, and a lot of times after work, I get a LOT of reading in. Mostly, this is great. Not so great is that I've started having Harry Potter-themed dreams. And they are SO STRESSFUL. I can never remember the names for appropriate spells, so my wand is completely useless. And I've always been prone to chasing dreams anyway, so my chaser* having magic available is sooooooo much worse.
Last night I dreamt that it was the wrap-up of the last book (which I'm reading now), but instead of a stand-off between Harry and Lord Voldemort, a bunch of people in the dream were sitting around, and that song "Don't You Forget About Me" from "The Breakfast Club" was playing.
I woke up with the song in my head, really believing I'd just witnessed the conclusion of the 7th book, and thought, "Well, at least I can read some other book now." And then I heard the song again and got really annoyed with myself.
I'm not going to ruin the plot of "Crazy, Stupid, Love." for you, but I will say I really liked it. After seeing such tripe as "Something Borrowed" among others recently...it was so refreshing. To not hate the characters in a RomCom or hope for each of them to get hit by a bus. Which, yes, is not something you're probably supposed to say, but is nonetheless true. The characters are always so seriously unloveable, I just can't ever get into the plot. And by the end I'm hoping one will turn into a homicidal maniac so all the characters can stop existing forever. This hardly ever works out for me.
Anyway. I didn't hate these characters. And you should see the movie.
Warning, though, if you are like me and cry at everything ever, the movie will totally screw you at the very end by making you cry and then going straight to the credits. Plan appropriately.
Here's the thing: I hate all professional sports leagues. I hate that they charge so much for tickets and merchandise and that fans seem to actually believe that their attendance/purchases somehow helps the teams. Or something. I'm really not clear on the thought-process that justifies the throwing-away-of-funds.
The Foliage and I attended a DC United game recently (the tickets were super discounted, and also it was $2 pretzel night BAM) and were talking about this. We got to baseball specifically at one point, and he said, "It seems like most baseball fans love the game so much because of the nostalgia-value. They always say things like 'I grew up going to these games!' But no one ever nostalgia-loves mowing the lawn or taking out the trash."
Which is exactly why I'm marrying this one. But that's not the point at the moment.
Right now the point is that I really hate the NFL. I didn't even know there was a SITUATION until Twitter went all a-flutter about it ending. And my heart sank. Because I missed it! And I could have done something! To prevent the resolution! Well, I probably couldn't have. But I'm wired to feel like I've always missed an opportunity. And so: displeasure.
Which leads us to now. When apparently football is going to be starting up again. Le sigh.
Here are the things I like about football season:
-I can invite people over, and HELLO my #1 favorite activity in the world is playing hostess and feeding people.
-...ummm that's it.
Any reasons to pollyanna this are welcome. Truly. Because when I make my catatonic-yet-annoyed-asylum-patient-face and then slump into The Foliage's line of vision to get attention...I'm not sure he loves it quite as much as I think he should.
Idea: a television network that broadcasts NFL games, but does MSTK3000-style voice-overs, and turns the whole thing into a big soap opera. People can die and come back to life just like on Days of Our Lives! I would watch the sh*t out of that. Alternately: Soap Opera Network shows character stats at the bottom of the screen.
Sometimes I really miss daytime TV. Also this post got way off-track. Oops.
It's one of those this-wedding-might-actually-kill-me days. I get completely bogged down and overwhelmed by my to-do list, and periodically think to myself,
"It's about you and The Foliage. Everything else will be OK, as long as you end up married."
And, yeah, that's true. But you know what won't be OK? If we don't have tables. THAT's right. We currently have no tables. Or chairs. Or non-vegan hors d'oeuvres (less of an issues, now that the fabulous Miss Rachel is ALL OVER the vegan ones). Or music for the ceremony. Or plates. Plates!!
When people ask how wedding planning is going or if I'm ready for it, I'll usually give my watered-down response. Because we all know that no one ever asks those questions REALLY wanting to know. Same as the usual generic, "Hey! How ARE you?" I don't care how much emphasis is on that "are"...it's a lie. The asker just wants you to give an equally generic response.
So for wedding planning, I do that. "Great!" or the good-natured helpless shrug. Unless I'm super absorbed with fcking pashminas, in which case maybe they'll get the truth. Which you read above, but I'll repeat: this wedding might actually kill me. And then THEY remind me that if The Foliage and I end up married, it's all fine.
Here's the thing:
We are not NOT focused on the marriage. Seriously. We've done more marriage prep than anyone I know. And I'm not talking about going through a list of questions together at home. I'm talking about 9 hours of PreCana, 4 hours of married-couple-mentoring, and 6 hours of meetings with our priest. Not counting work we did at home for those meetings (like choosing our ceremony readings together in preparation for a priest meeting). We've also dealt with the death of a parental figure, unemployment, merged our finances, and moved twice since being together.
I feel so, totally, totally ready to be married to this guy, that I am willing to sacrifice time and sanity to freak out about how we don't have tables. Because I can afford that brainspace. In the background, that brainspace is still working its ass off to be a good partner to The Foliage. The foreground might make that hard to believe, but you'll just have to trust me on this one. Isn't he lucky?? I'm so committed to him, I'm willing to obsess over the party! Man. To be in that guy's shoes, right?