Procrastination and Wedding Planning, or How to be an Intern at Spreadsheets from Hell Enterprises
I cannot believe how little wedding planning we have managed to accomplish in the last year.
My fiance and I got engaged almost a year ago (go us!), a mere month after deciding to split our time between a farm cottage in Pennsylvania, and our long-standing Brooklyn apartment.
The reason for this insane living arrangement: I took a job in PA. Also, living, even part-time, on farm we don’t have to run is a no-brainer.
So we got a roommate in Brooklyn, and my fiance commutes back and forth, working long-term freelance set building gigs. June, the cats, and I hold it down on the farm. I get up to New York as much as I can.
We’ve also been dating for eight years and went with a two year engagement because, hey, we waited this long, what’s the rush?
Apparently there is none. We have procrastinated away most of the year. Procrastination is a dangerous temptress for the high-strung (me) and the perfectionists (him… and me).
To our credit, we have been bouncing between two places, we work like crazy, we adopted a very nervous puppy eight months ago, and above all, everything, including doing the dishes, is better than making spreadsheets where we have to rank everyone we know by:
- Can they come?
- Can they bring someone?
- How close to us can they sit?
- Can we dress them in special clothes and ask them to do things for us?
That task alone has had me practicing belly breathing to ward off the panic and taking June for a lot of extra walks. I just can’t easily place my loved ones in these arbitrary tiers.
I’m 31. Most of the people still in my life at this point have come over in the middle of the night. They’ve talked me down mid panic attack or crying jag. They’ve given me the courage to try things like living in two places at once. Some have helped us through rough patches in our relationship by advice, example, or just being.
These people are as much a part of this relationship as we are by now.
Then there are the spreadsheets outlining money we will spend on things that confound and outrage me.
Silverware rental!? How are we supposed to know how many forks? And what kind of forks?? What if we run out of forks???
Guests with forks will begin stabbing one another in order to steal and redistribute the remaining forks to their own families. We should budget for more forks.
It is exactly like having a painfully menial internship at a company you have dreamed all your life of getting hired into. Every ridiculously tiny decision feels like you are carrying the weight of a million hand-painted, vintage, iron picture frame table markers. And the charm of those table markers will determine your entire future.