My sister is getting married on Saturday. I am so excited for her. We’ve been talking about this wedding since last August and now here we are, down to her last few days as a single gal. Tomorrow at 11 a.m. my three boys and I will report to the wedding location for a rehearsal before heading out with Kathy and her soon-t0-be husband and his family to lunch. This entire week has been spent tying up last minute details for the wedding. Today I hemmed the boys’ khaki pants for the ceremony and reception. Tomorrow afternoon after the rehearsal I will help my mom put some finishing touches on my bridesmaid’s dress. Then, I get to try to figure out an appropriate, meaningful, and fun toast for my sister and Chris on their wedding day because I am serving as the matron of honor. So much to do, so little time left to do it in because the wedding is at 10:30 a.m. on Saturday.
So you’ll never guess what, in the midst of all this last-minute, wedding craziness, I decided to do. I thought we might be able to squeak in a few hours at the crack of roosters tomorrow morning selling some things during our Community Garage Sale (that only happens once a year) before quickly showering and making it to the 11 a.m. wedding rehearsal. I made this brilliant decision, I suppose, because I just didn’t think I had enough going on right now. I thrive on chaos and eat stress cookies for lunch. Clearly, I am certifiable, genuine, bat-crap crazy. Plus…we really need to unload some stuff so I can funnel more money into my savings account for the trip to Hawaii I’ve been planning while hubby has been dreaming of appropriating the savings for new camera equipment.
Tonight, when I should have been pressing the boys’ outfits and working on my wedding toast, hubby and I were in the basement sorting through miscellaneous items in our storage room, which is inundated with things we once “had” to have. These items taunt us. They are a reminder of the truth: we could have been to Hawaii twice by now if we hadn’t bought some of this junk. Seriously. As Steve attempted to free his once oft-used Bowflex machine from the back of the space, he handed me the Celestron telescope we bought for stargazing, used once, and then gave up on after realizing we really would have to read the instructions to work it properly. We tripped over outgrown children’s toys, from Lincoln Logs to Chutes and Ladders, simply trying to liberate some larger items from what had become their permanent home in our basement. Our need to purge overwhelmed our need to prepare for the wedding.
As we hauled stuff up to the garage and I stuck prices on larger items with blue painter’s tape, it occurred to me how absolutely insane I am for deciding to participate in a garage sale on the same morning as my sister’s wedding rehearsal. I’m nuts. That’s all there is to it. Why would anyone do this to themselves? Now I will get six hours’ worth of sleep in the hopes of jettisoning some of our baggage and maybe, just maybe, making a few extra bucks in the process. It’s probably not even remotely worth the effort. Truth is, though, that you can’t stop crazy. It takes over. If I could control it, it would be sanity. But, let’s face it. Sane people are dull with their lists and their timeliness and their level heads. I prefer to think that all my irrational behavior merely makes me more interesting. Yeah. That’s it. Please promise you’ll remember me fondly when they haul me off to a room where I cannot hurt myself or hold garage sales.