countdown. not the Final one, but one nonetheless.

Wedding websites are set up to panic the ever loving hell out of brides-to-be.


Every time I log in to one of the myriad websites set up to "help" and "ease" and "support" the modern bride-to-be, I am sucker punched in the face with precisely how many days left until My Day. 

side note: I use My Day instead of Our Day, because that is what the websites push.  The Bride's dream dress, dream hair, dream shoes, dream fondant, dream chair covers.  None of these sites are even remotely concerned with what a Groom might be looking for, or, god-forbid, something that appeals to BOTH people in the COUPLE who are being MARRIED.  Nope.  "Every Little Girl's Dream"  This is a rant for another day.

Today's rant is about these bloody websites!!!  The Knot is set up with a checklist.  I haven't figured out how to customize this checklist, but started checking off some things that I had in fact dealt with already, ignoring things like "interview wedding coordinators"  and "book a caligrapher"  and "hire a personal trainer".  But those items remain on my list, with an angry clock symbol next to them, chastising me for being a slacker bride.

The sites of the stores where you are registered are just as bad!  I am once more reminded just exactly how many precious days I have left to perfectly coordinate my mix-n-match china patterns and monogrammed fingertip towels.  We are also bombarded with "registry recommended" choices that are not catered to any selections we have already made, but are a seemingly random collection of brand-named, overpriced, ugly, tacky shit that they must be overloaded with in the warehouses and must therefore find ways of selling more of it.  "Yeah, gift-crazed brides will totally eat this shit up if we call it Registry Recommended!  ::evil genius cackle followed by stroking of a fat ugly purebred cat::"

The Worth of Warmth.

I'm laying on the sofa, 45 minutes after the movie I was watching has ended, listening to one neighbor's tv and another neighbor's whining dog.  And I have to pee. 

Why am I laying here, listening to sounds that make me want to eat my own ears and praying my bladder doesn't suddenly decide to fail?

Because Zelda is sleeping on my feet and it's cold in here, that's why.  Body heat has become such a commodity in this household that it is worth more than other personal comforts.

Maybe Spring will come early this year.  We are close to Punxatawney out here, aren't we?  I should go bribe that little bugger Phil.....