Counting up the invitations last night, I realized that I am further along than I thought. I had 96 done (rather than the 75 I had guesstimated), and I finished another 40 last night (as opposed to the 25 in my mind) leaving me approximately 15 more to do (as opposed to 50). It was liking finding a $50 bill in my pocket.

And now the fun stuff is coming. People are asking me where we’re registered and are planning showers. I found a nice flower lady. People say, “Oh! That’s coming right up!” when I tell them the wedding date. My wacky wedding dreams have been getting silly as opposed to nerve-wracking. I’ve bought fun lingerie. I switched pills, and I’m no longer nauseated in the mornings.

So, of course, I’m sitting here thinking, “I wonder when it’s all going to crash down around my ears.” I so frequently do this—let my pessimistic side just take over. But I don’t want to live there, 2 steps ahead of myself on the worrisome scale. Is something going to go wrong on my wedding day? Surely. Will someone notice it and tell me at the least opportune moment? Probably. Can I do anything about it? Nope. So why should I spend precious time worrying about it?

Sigh. I will anyway.