“Whatever souls are made of,
his and mine are the same.”
- Emily Bronte

We’re down to five days.  FIVE DAYS, people.

Which means, of course, two things: my dreams are becoming more and more fitful, and I’ve gotten a zit the size of Mount Vesuvius on my chin.  Went through high school with about one blemish a year (some of them not even growing large enough to be called a “zit”), and the week of my wedding, I wake up with a third eye that has half of my face swollen.

Jenni’s answer?  Windex.  Ha. Ha.

After shopping for FOUR HOURS yesterday, I’d like to say, for the record, that I’m thrilled to only have to buy a ring for Bryan once.  I don’t care if he asks for one ever again, he will only be receiving the one from me.

So last night’s anxiety dream was actually pre-empted by a panic attack.  I’m not sure I’m stressed out or maybe I’m in denial, but last night during a rerun of Bridezillas, I had to excuse myself to go pass out in the bathroom.  Between shallow breathing, dry heaving, and sweating, I think I knocked out a pretty decent panic attack.  Bryan knew something was wrong when I didn’t show back up to catch the premier of When Gayzillas Attack.  Oddly enough, the cure for my panic attack was clear as day when I came to: I needed a huge (or as my father would say, a medium) bowl of ice cream that was drowned in chocolate syrup.  And, of course, the meltdown of the most flaming queen who is the poster child for WHY YOU SHOULD NOT EVER MARRY SOMEONE YOU AFFECTIONATELY CALL A DRAMA QUEEN.  That made my life seem miraculously bump-free.

Then I dreamed that, post-ceremony, Bryan and I were running around like mad trying to ensure meaningless details had been attended to, and everyone was happy, and then we realized (in a moment of complete and utter horror) that we had missed our entire reception and the guests had gone home.  And my momma was MAAAAAAAAD at me.

I’m ready to sleep soundly again.

I’ll tell you what I really ready for.. I’m ready to take pictures, in my fabulous dress, with all of my nieces and nephews.  That’s what I’m ready for. (With someone standing just out of frame, holding a spitcloth.)

I had a small victory this morning.  In our morning tag-up with my senior management, we all go around the table and say if we have any newsworthy stuff (upcoming meetings, gossip about future tests, etc).  I said simply, “As a reminder, I’m off this Friday and most of next week.”  One of the ladies remarked that, oh right, this was the week I was getting married.

And eyes flew WIDE.

“You’re getting married this week?!” and “You’ve been planning a wedding all this time?!” and “How amazingly calm you’ve been!” and “I wish I was as composed as you!!”.  Which makes me feel better.  I’ve fooled them.

If they only knew my dreams..