I’m sitting here trying to type with the pads of my fingers because despite having worked at or around a Spa for the past six years I can’t ever seem to get a manicure and a wax, for love nor money, when I need one. So I’m hairy-legged (not that that’s anything new) and smudgy because, alas, I’m going to a wedding with the husband tomorrow and though I can disguise my hairiness with some heavy opaque tights or pants I simply do not feel festive without bright red nail polish.
As usual when I travel, I’m at that point in the packing process where it looks like a tornado hit the house and I’m never, ever going to manage to get everything into my allotted suitcases. This point exhausts me, but I’m hanging onto the thought that with or without my bags I will be on the plane next week, for dear life and that’s what’s going to get me through the weekend.
Did I mention it’s supposed to snow at the wedding venue tomorrow? We haven’t seen snow since a short burst of wintertime impetus from the weather in October and now it’s going to snow. How’s that for Murphy’s law? Of course the wedding will be held in a mountain town, because it’s eminently reasonable to plan a destination wedding in the Alps in December. Also, it’s midnight and I have no clue what I’m wearing. At least my nail polish is catchy.
The Husband turned forty today. I’ve been planning a recap post of his party last Saturday all week and have yet to get around it, it’s like this wedding, the last minute Christmas shopping, and our imminent trip have completely taken over my few remaining brain cells. But I needed to acknowledge his birthday today because forty is kind of a big deal. Although, I always thought fifty was the real big deal, what with it being half a century and all, but he disagrees. Apparently, forty is the biggest deal of all, in fact he mentioned he had to start thinking about my fortieth party now, four years ahead of time. Really honey, forty’s not that big a deal.
I have a completely unhealthy co-dependent relationship with Nutella. In fact, I feel an irrepressible urge to go have some right now, kind of like I’m a werewolf and Nutella’s the moon.
And I think Nutella’s a good note on which to end this completely useless post. This is how my brain works. I’m sorry.