Glinda, love, will you lend me your bubble?
Stuff. There’s stuff I need to do. Lots of stuff. I’ve given up making lists because there’s so much stuff. I only lose them anyway. The only difference now being I don’t know what I’m doing all the time, instead of just most of it. I’m encased in a fuzzy, muffled bubble of wedding planning, occasionally sliding off the pavement, and careering down the road, ricocheting off the ground like a bouncy ball, heading straight into the wedding planning abyss.
When people ask me how it’s all going, I honestly don’t know what to tell them. It’s not because I’m being rude, it’s because I genuinely can’t remember what stage it’s at (should have kept those lists)*. Definitely should have kept the lists.* “Lots of stuff to do”, I tell them, with nodded head, trying to look nonchalant and calm, not a panicking, blundering wreck.
And so I turn to my email correspondence – a tad haphazard at the best of times. I’m just hoping my trigger-happy propensity to email all and sundry in the wedding world won’t result in twenty make-up artists and a dozen pipers on the day.
Maybe this bubble I write about could function as a weapon of self-preservation, whisking me away at lightning speed when it gets a bit too much and I start annoying people by being myself. It could float into the ether, returning to Scotland at the end of August, so I can step out of it and into my wedding gear. Like Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz. Please lend us your bubble, Glinda, love. Although the pink dress may have to go. Now let me just go and put that on my list.
*Me being myself