The wedding is now under three weeks away, and I have no idea how we got from New Year’s Day 2016 on a bridge in the mountains officially engaged to now, an hour out from having to leave to meet with our DJ.

In the meantime, it’s been a lot of the usual–work, dance lessons, going to the gym, going out on occasion. We made it to a second weekly party for our dance class down at the casino, followed the next morning by hair and makeup trials for my mom and I. I swear hairdressers can work magic, because even though I’m now second-guessing some things just because of the length of my hair and what pictures will look like, she was still able to do more than I would have guessed. I figured my short hair would limit me, and it does, but not as bad as I thought.

After that, we spent our afternoon at Nolan and Brett’s housewarming party, all done up. We ate and drank–well, mostly I drank, thanks to being summoned over for a few shots–I finally got to see a friend’s new baby after swearing I wanted to go visit him before the wedding, which is looking increasingly impossible, we talked about Lana Del Rey’s new album, and we generally had a good time. It was nice.

It also makes me want a house even more, but at this point, everything makes me want a house. Like, you know you’ve outgrown your apartment when you’re jealous of the space in your soon-to-be sister-in-law’s trailer.

And so things were going nicely and normally until I woke up last Tuesday and heard water dripping.


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