Melissa's Place

Someone’s trying to make a Bridezilla out of Me

Six days before the day we got married, someone phoned and asked to bring her boyfriend. (Did I mention this was less than week before the day of our wedding?) Of course, I said yes. As a consequence, I had to phone my wedding coordinator and caterer at the golf course and ask for an additional person despite the fact that the deadline had passed for final numbers. I then had to revamp the seating plan and reprint the seating chart. A small argument between myself and the printer arose, but I won.

Five days before the day we got married, someone had to be informed that they could not wear jeans to the wedding.

And four days before the day we got married, Delia and I went to pick up my dress. We took it to her house and delicately hung it up in a spare bedroom. We ran a few errands, went out for a late breakfast at the Daylight Grill, and then I drove her home. On my way back home, I began to get a nagging feeling in my mind. It’s the kind that usually means I’m worrying too much. So I phoned Delia and asked her, "This is going to sound stupid, but could you please check the bag with the wedding gown in it to make sure that the long sash used to tie up the back of the dress is in it?" It wasn’t. I had to drive back to the bridal shop (30 minutes there, 30 minutes back) to get it. I had to be polite and when she said she was sorry, I had to say, "It’s alright. These things happen" when what I really felt like saying was, "You should KNOW better! This could have been a disaster! It WOULD have been a disaster, almost certainly, with anyone who is less of a worrier and anal-retentive control-freak because they wouldn’t thoroughly check the bag until the day of the wedding when it would certainly cause an incredible inconvenience, not to mention a major heart attack!"

When I got home, I discovered that our internet is down….again.

Epilogue
My friend, Yeats, phoned to ask if I wanted to play some squash with him. I recounted my story about the dress and he said, "How did you know that the lace was missing?" And I tried to explain how I think of every possible minute detail or thing that could go wrong in any given situation. To which he joked, "Are you the kind of person who always double checks to make sure that the oven isn’t on?" To which I responded, "Surprisingly, I never worry about the oven."

Hours later, I would discover that I had left the oven on all day.