OK. When a light fixture fell out of the ceiling and hit our priest on the head, giving him a concussion that landed him in the hospital for the forseeable future, I thought that was maybe a weird sign. I mean, he’s a priest, right? And a NICE priest. A priest that didn’t toss us out on our behinds when Katsumi not only admitted he hadn’t been to church in 25 years but also confessed that he didn’t even know the Hail Mary. In fact, out lack of external devotion seemed to ingratiate us further with him – why would God want to bring the wrath? So now, we don’t really know who’s going to preside over our wedding, but I guess someone’ll have to do it… i hope…

Then we had a scheduled tasting with the country club, which our coordinator forgot about. That was fine, I didn’t want to leave work early on a Thursday, anyway. A month ago, I got a letter that our coordinator left for greener pastures, and in the interim we were left off the list for the February tasting. We’re supposed to meet on Saturday for a menu consultation, but I feel like I’m gonna have to work.

Then we had to call the Espousal Retreat house the day before our PreCana and cancel because my grandpa died. They said they’d keep our check and reserve us a space at the next one. We got that out of the way. Last weekend. Everybody else there was wearing cashmere sweaters and sporting three-carat rocks, trilling happily about their June nuptuals, while I, clad in motorcycle boots and green leggings, prayed for a quick death.

Then the bridal salon, instead of rush-shipping my friend Christina’s bridesmaid dress to California, sent it via UPS ground. Her dress got there a week late, and the shop staunchly refuses to credit my $20 back for shipping charges. I got mad. Very mad. A story, perhaps, for another time, since it’s still so fresh in my mind that I’m actually shaking right now just thinking about it.

To date, I am still waiting for addresses from both my fiancee and my father, while my mother debates over whether or not to invite her coworkers. Mind you, our wedding is only a month away.

and none of the groomsmen have tuxes.

Next time I get married, there will be no relatives dying in the middle of my wedding planning, there will be no holidays in the middle of my wedding planning, I will hire somebody professional to design the invitations, and I will definitely acquire a goodly stash of anti-anxiety meds because JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WTF.