Post 101 doesn't quite feel like post 100, but I suppose I will write past the post-100 hype and continue to bless you, my readers, with something insightful.
Today marks exactly one week before my wedding day, and to put it calmly, I am freaking out. I'm not freaking out about marriage and the lifetime committment to one person (who I will wake up to every single day, every day, for the rest of my life); no, I'm flipping inside out over all the preparation. I feel as though the house must look perfect for when our guests arrive next week, especially since it will be the first time so many of them will get to see it. And it's very hard for our house to look good since we've been in a constant state of construction since we bought it last spring.
So, for one thing, there is dust coating every surface. For another, we have boxes piled up everywhere, and for another, we are not even halfway complete with our renovations, so the main part of our home still looks like it did when we moved; that means icky carpet, the wall of mirrors, and the crusty wallpaper. Not to mention the grody tile. Oh! And we have an old stove sitting in the office -- not such a great accent piece. So even though I've been cleaning like a weasal on crack, the house still is not that pretty. And I find myself doing things I normally would find absolutely crazy, like ironing the sheets and cleaning the window sills with a q-tip. Usually, I am a clean person, but I'm not manic, but for the past week I've felt pretty close to breaking into idiot-induced mumbles and banging my head against the wall.
No time to run, but on the plus side, I think this cleaning business is burning plenty of calories because I'm all sweaty in the pits (anything that makes you sweat is exercise in my book). But I have this bubble of air in my stomach -- I assume from the soda I just had -- and I feel as though you could push on me and I would deflate like a baloon. Maybe I just need to fart.
Would that clear all the dust away?