There�s something about stress and lack of sleep that makes me do foolish, foolish things.
The wedding was gorgeous. Everything was perfect. I was exhausted going into the big preparation day on Friday, and it didn�t ever improve, but I think it was worth it. Again I might say, �It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.�
Saturday morning I arose early, then traipsed about the various yards for an hour and a half, clipping all the flowers I could imagine possibly using. And when I arrived at the church to construct the corsages, boutonnieres and bouquets, it was locked. Thank goodness for moms. Moms with nearby houses and nearly empty fridges, moms who will drive about town looking for the bride�s very pregnant cousin, who would be my accomplice in boutonniere-making.
Sure, I realize while I was frantically whipping out flowers, the bride and matron of honor were relaxing at the hair salon, my treat. And when they returned home, they spent some time riding the minibike around the farm with their cousins, having a blast. These are the harsh realities of your life when you have a wedding-related skill.
We made a huge mess of Mom�s kitchen, but I think I was sufficiently grateful for her help and for leaving her with the cleanup. And I was relieved she�d washed the dirty laundry I left on Friday, so I had undergarments for the wedding. I hate being that kid, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
So to the point: I got very drunk at the reception. I believe I had fun. I do not believe a good half of the stories the matron of honor chose to tell about me the next day, but I�m fully aware that some of it�s true. I�m also aware that her husband, who invited people back to my place to continue partying, did not come party at my place. I know that Jeremy fixed us martinis, and I know I had the sense to refuse to let him use the bottle of Dirty Olive vodka that�s for me alone. I am aware that when I awoke the next morning, I didn�t know the name of one of the people who�d been there, though I recall I let his dog, Ursula, come in and encouraged her to chase my cat. Thankfully she was much better behaved than I. I didn�t know where my car was, where my clean laundry was, or where one of my guests was.
I dunno, it was the usual stuff. Me losing things, me dropping things, me asking the same question fifty times and hearing myself mumbling and wondering why I couldn�t make the words come out right. And I think it was too much this time. Just way too much. I�m not proud, and I suspect it�s not so funny to the pals, though it provides plenty of fodder for more sober moments. So I�m on a break.
Yesterday was lots of sleep and fluids. Then everyone came over, and we ended up watching the Bears game (I�m tired of shouting at the TV, and this trying to run the ball right up the middle must really stop now), some NASCAR (not my choice, I promise), and listening to good music and reading. Quite lovely. And later a bunch of us curled up with books outdoors until suppertime, before resurrecting leftovers.
After supper the bride and matron of honor and I headed out for a walk, while the groom and his new brother-in-law took the top off the Jeep and drove to town for ice cream. They picked us up on the way back, and we cruised around the section, girls in back holding on to the roll bar for dear life, all of us howling and waving as we passed neighbors� houses. It felt just like we 16, and I kept waiting for somebody�s mom to track us down and send us all home. But we were all home, and in the end, the worst thing that happened was that the ice cream was a mushy mess by the time we returned from the adventure.
Last night we played Trivial Pursuit and euchre, but both required just a bit more concentration than I had left. I think it�s still lack of sleep. I didn�t want anyone to leave. It�s lovely having a house full of friends.
Oh, and I guess I could announce that I�m finally sleeping in my bed again. It�s not easy, and I�m having an awful time falling asleep, but I think it�s a good, necessary step.
The interview went famously, too, but I�m having so much fun with my pals all home and right across the road that I refuse to even think about what happens next. I�ve heard the interviewer was nervous that she�d frightened me off, so I�ll write a nice little note. It�s refreshing to have an honest interviewer. It�ll be a few weeks before they can say for sure and can talk money, so I�m footloose and fancy-free until then.
By golly, sometimes people do like me.