*insert excited squealing noises here* – The countdown has officially begun.

I’m getting married six months from today. In 183 days. (Don’t worry, I only know that because of our knot.com site. I’m not actually keeping a count. …Yet.) Picture me squealing with excitement. ‘Cause that’s what I’m doing right now.

I always knew I wouldn’t want a super long engagement. Likewise I always knew that would mean working overtime to get things accomplished in that shorter time frame. But I’m ok with that. Because the alternative – a prolonged engagement – would stress me out even more, if that’s at all possible. Let me attempt to explain. I’m slightly crazy, and a large chunk of my zaniness (Doesn’t zany just sound cuter? I like to imagine that my crazy is kind of cute – like an adorable, endearing little trait. Others might disagree.) is my proclivity to stress.

We’re not just talking slight anxiousness. We’re talking full-blown, all-consuming, thought-dominating, sometimes-physically-manifesting stress. I’m the person who assumes something terrible has happened to you if you don’t answer your cell phone right away, the person who believes in her gut the laws of nature are skewed to inevitably bring doom and gloom and the person who believes failure is more of a guarantee than success. Just call me Miss Skeptismo. (I’ll be selling “The World is Ending Tomorrow” shirts at a great wedding-special price, if anyone is interested.) Anyway, all that is to explain that the longer the engagement, the longer I would get to stress. And show everybody my full-blown crazy. And, by proxy, make everybody else crazy – not exactly pleasant thoughts. Hence, the desire for a shorter engagement.

Still, it’s wild to think we’re already two months into this whole engagement business and we only have six short little months to go. Six months to figure out the reception menu, to put together a playlist of jammin’ tunes to which to dance the night away, to figure out ceremony music, to figure out the ceremony period, to decide on decorations and those pesky flowers. And wedding bands. And engagement photos. And hair and makeup. And what the heck the Mister and his guys are going to wear. Fingers are crossed it’s something that matches and does not include denim.


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