IT’S official – I can’t sleep.
And even when I can, I won’t.
My head is too full.
Of wedding plans and problems and worries.
Must remember to do this.
Don’t forget to do that.
Tick this off the list.
Dammit, add this to the list.
We’ve been planning and planning and planning this wedding for so long, and yet there are still things to do.
Still things to think about, still things to keep me up at night.
If anyone could hear my thoughts right now they’d tell me to cop myself right on. It’s a wedding I’m working on, not nuclear fission.
But still. At times it feels like nuclear fission. At times it feels like I’m running the bloody world.
I’ve come to the conclusion that weddings are mad things altogether, Ted.
I fully believe that in years to come hip teenagers in hovercars and spaceships will wander around museums looking at wedding photos in bewilderment, convinced we were all off our respective boxes.
It’s such an odd thing to want to do, get married, isn’t it?
Tethering yourself legally to someone, making a hoopla out of announcing that you’re a couple, flouncing about in ivory tafetta.
I lie awake night after night, listening to Yer Man snuffling beside me, watching the light on the landing brighten as the hours pass.
Worrying about pew ends, running through the order of the day, hoping our suppliers won’t let us down, wondering if any of it is really worth it.
But then I turn on to my side and snuggle into his warm back, feeling his heart beating under my palm, and get my answer.
*This post was written at 2am, but I clicked ‘Save’ instead of ‘Publish’. D’oh! It made more sense at 2am!