T minus 1.5 days
Roo's results came back from the vet on Saturday, and I am delighted to say that the lump on her leg was not cancer after all, but a mass of fatty tissue (niiice).
So. Everything is arranged, and all there is to worry about now are natural disasters, last minute changes-of-heart, or sudden and drastic weight-gain. I had a dream the other night that I weighed myself and the scales told me I was 17 stone. I had to go and try on my dress immediately to make sure it still fitted (it did).
I'm amazingly calm - I thought I'd be a gibbering mess by now. The ratio of nerves:excitement is leaning towards the latter. I'm super excited to put my dress on and see the Boy's face when I walk down the aisle. I'm looking forward to wearing my wedding ring, and going on honeymoon. I can't wait to finally, after seven and bit years, stand up, make my vows and hear the Boy make his. Because that means I can get fat and he can't escape.
I still can't believe that neither of our dads will be there to see us get married, but I'm sure they will both be looking down on us. And spluttering in horror at the wanton money-spending that has been going on in their absence.
As much as I'm looking forward to the wedding, I'm not going to miss the constant phone calls from people asking me what's happening about the cake/piper/catering/favours/flowers/minister. I'm not normally the most organised person and it's been a bit of a struggle being the person who co-ordinates everyone and everything. But I've managed it and so far there's not been any major disasters (there's still time though).
The thing I am most nervous about is the fact that, against my better judgement, I didn't get my passport renewed. I will have eight months left on my passport at the time we're returning from honeymoon - I know the rule is you have to have six months left on it at the time you're coming home, but I wish I'd got a new one, just in case. Two months doesn't seem like a very big margin of error. What if I counted wrong? What if the rules change on the day we fly out?
Ah well, it's too late now. My next post may be from a Malaysian detention centre.
See you after the jump.