I'm saving those for my other wedding...

I will have you all know that I was supposed to be done with this blog by today. It's our fourth (dating) anniversary and it's also the deadline I gave myself for wrapping up this blog and debuting the new thing that I've been working on. When I set it, I figured that this deadline might even be a little lax, since I lost my job on the last day of June and that was a month ago and MY GOD, WOMAN, how long does it take you to end a wedding blog?

Don't worry, that wasn't an introduction to the worst goodbye entry in the history of the world. As our life continues to be complicated, I haven't managed to either wrap up everything on this end or finish my new project, so we're going to continue to remain in blogging limbo until everything calms down. At this rate, we'll make it to our first wedding anniversary and then I can act like I totally meant to drag this blog out that long. You know, to really extend the celebration.



In the meantime, I thought I'd illustrate for you the continuing aftermath of planning a destination wedding at Walt Disney World. For the last three months we've been packing up our apartment (yes, you read that right...three months) and over the course of that time we've continued to find odds and ends related to the wedding planning. The first couple of finds were things like stickers used for the newsletters and extra thank you cards, all things that we'd be able to use again, so I told Kyle to start a pile in the living room and I would go through it later. Well, the pile got a little unruly, so I put it into a large rubbermaid tub to keep it under control and I've been adding to it ever since.

Which brings us to last night's conversation. Apparently Kyle has been suffering from male-living-room-blindness in that he has failed to notice that the room has been a mess for two months, so when he couldn't find the television remote control last night, he suddenly started going, "whoa...hey...what is all this stuff? what is all this stuff piled up in our living room? where did all this stuff come from?" I swear, sometimes it's like he doesn't even live here. I don't know if he thought we were reverse-burgled and someone broke in to leave all their crap in our apartment, but he honestly was looking around like our things had just materialized out of thin air.

I was ignoring him from the kitchen (a really excellent place to ignore people from), since I figured it wouldn't hurt him to get a little inspired to help me get the crap out of our living room, when all of a sudden I heard the telltale sound of things being taken out of a rubbermaid tub. This is the counter-productive to the whole moving plan, so I came around the corner just in time to see Kyle picking up a ring pillow that I got from somewhere about a year and a half ago.

"What is this?"
"It's a ring pillow."
"I realize that. What is it doing in this box?"
"It's wedding stuff."
And my sweetheart of a husband turned to me and said, "Are you $%&#ing kidding me?"

Apparently he didn't see the value in saving the ring pillow that we didn't use. Or the wedding countdown checklist with the planning labels included. Or the two boxes of wedding invitations that were on sale at Target but didn't end up fitting the theme of our wedding. In fact, for some reason my husband picked that moment to unpack every single item in that box and tell me why we no longer needed it...all the way down to the 60 wooden hearts that I never handpainted for each guest.

When he finally ran out of steam somewhere around the 15 back issues of Martha Stewart Weddings, I helped him find the remote and then I packed everything back into the rubbermaid tub, put the lid on it, and pushed it over to the wall-of-things-ready-to-go-on-the-truck. Kyle started to raise another objection, but I pointed out that if I no longer needed the wedding stuff, he probably didn't need those surfing magazines he's had since college (since he doesn't surf) or the 400 t-shirts he's saved since high school (that are four sizes too big). And that ended that.