I don't know what's gotten into me, but I'm having mini-mental freak-outs with increasing regularity. Only in my head, mind you -- one of the advantages of knowing I'm nuts is that there's nothing particularly novel or spectacular about these little "moments" I have. At least, not as events, per se. But their subject has shifted away from "Why isn't *insert topic here* more successful/lucrative/likely to make the people who were mean to me in high school green with envy?" ... the white noise that used to narrate my day when there was nothing good on the radio.
Instead, my inner iPod is currently set to this: "I'm getting married! Like, soon! Holy crap! What does this mean? About us? About me? Does it have to look like anyone else's marriage? Will it look as unfathomable to people on the outside as other marriages have looked to me? Will people treat us differently? Will we treat each other differently? Am I really going to live with a man who thinks being organized is having two separate piles of clothes -- one dirty, one clean -- on the floor?!?" (See why I keep this junk to myself?) (Yes, I see the irony here.)
Which is why I was made oh-so-very warm & fuzzy inside to read this, over on Mr. UB's blog:*
"The fact is, she doesn't know what she wants, all that she knows is that *variable* calls her by name from the darkest part of the night, and it grows more and more difficult for her to resist the temptation to go screaming into the shadows."**
Okay, so maybe in his blog it doesn't say "variable" ... but it kinda should -- I have a short attention span and internet access. And yet, his reaction is not to follow me screaming into the abyss ... but to try his best to procure said thing for me.
It must be love! Or something that requires Ritalin. But I'm betting on the former.
*What? You're not reading his blog? You should -- he talks about non-wedding stuff over there. Sometimes.
** Lest you should think that I'm completely wretched, I want to point out that he was talking about cheese here.