So first, a quick update: We actually have everyone BOOKED. That is so, so comforting. Last minute, true, but oh so comforting.
But that's not what this post is about.
If you don't like my "shitshitshitshit" posts, just skip this one. It's mostly just me freaking out.
Today we went to drop off our rather large security deposit at our reception venue and work out the final details. We actually sat down to meet with the lady in the ballroom where we'll be having the reception, allowing me a few glances to re-establish myself with the space--I haven't been there since Jen and John's wedding like three years ago (Greg did all the venue booking, because he's a CATCH). After all the usual questions and such, she informed us that next weekend was going to be a busy one at the Scoular...there were events Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, AND Saturday.
Usually when vendors tell me about other people's events I listen with friendly interest, but this did not make me happy.
Mainly because having an event on Thursday means we can't decorate early.
It was so perfect, when we thought we could decorate on Thursday. We could take our time, fix anything that didn't look quite as we had envisioned. Most importantly, I wouldn't have to fucking deal with it on my wedding day. I could maybe sleep in (if my body allowed such a thing...it rarely does) take my time on my hair and makeup. Now we have to not only set ours up on Friday, but deal with them cleaning up the mess of the night before. She said the earliest we could come in is at 930, but if we came in at 1130 they could guarantee that everything would be ready.
Welllll, 930 means getting up early, but 11 means a vein pops in my head if anything, anything goes wrong. SO 930 it is then. Rock and roll.
This was coupled with a string of RSVP issues (I said no more RSVPs, but I'm letting many slip in because they're people who really ought to be there. The ones that make my eye twitch are either the people we don't know super well, or the people who, one week before the wedding, all of the sudden want to bring two friends, or a family of five that might stop by. Twitch. Twitchtwitchtwitch.)
So I was...stressed.
I was also expecting a package today from my cousin, who did our flowers. Two other packages came (some masks and a BIG HUGE PRESENT, HOORAY) and then the mailman range my doorbell.
We'd already gotten our regular mail so I was sure these were the flowers. But when I opened the door, it was just a man. A concerned looking man.
"We have some packages for you, but one of them looks as though it might have been damaged. You might want to check it out, see if anything inside is broken. If it is, just bring it back to the post office and we'll have you fill out the forms to be compensated."
And then he goes to the truck and he brings me two boxes...and "looks as though" and "might have been damaged" were UNDERSTATEMENTS. One of the boxes looks like it's been attacked by dogs, and one with the top completely collapsed until it looks like it was bent in half. I look at the shipping label and sure enough, these are my flowers. I think my heart actually stopped.
This was my day. HOWEVER, next I will tell you about how I opened the boxes, and everything was fine, and the flowers are beautiful. And how that fixes everything in the world.
Or, um, I can tell you that right now, and then just post pictures of my flowers. That works too.