We'd decided to stay together at Nick's Friday night, then part in the morning and not see each other again until the wedding.
That morning, I awoke with a start at 9:30. Alone.
9:30! Aaagh! I had 54 things to do before my hair appointment at 11:00!
I whirlwinded out into the living room. "It's 9:30!"
I was frenzied, pulling out the shawls to iron, throwing things into a bag to take downtown, trying to remember what I'd made sure I wouldn't forget before falling asleep the night before. What the fuck was it I'd told myself to remember?
Me, on my wedding morning, running in circles, flapping my arms. Getting nothing done and causing a whole lot of commotion. So much to do! How to start? And so little time!
I was a little hung over, and a lot tired. I'd been up from 3-6:00 am all thinky. Just excited. I'd assumed I'd nap, and then get up at seven with enough time to go for a run, pack the bags, etc.
So at 9:30, I was completely discombobulated.
Nick was calmly sipping tea and watching The Office. He grabbed my hand, patted his knee. "Come watch this, sweetie. It's funny!"
Few things are more infuriating than someone inviting you to watch television when you have many important, critical, immediate things on your agenda. Like, like underwear! And teeth-brushing! And coffee!
And that's just for starters!
And the wedding lipstick! Where the fuck did I put my wedding lipstick? Don't you know I can't get married without this lipstick I purchased specifically for this one particular event?
And you want me to sit down and watch The Office?
"Gaaaah! What is wrong with you? How can you just sit there watching TV when there's so much to do?"
Except that there wasn't so much for him to do. Really, he had a day of lunch with the guys, getting himself clean, and getting dressed by 4:00 pm.
Plenty of time for the new Office.
But he is a kind man, and he loves me, and plus, there's probably only so much frenzy and flapping you can watch before feeling bad for the person and stepping in.
So he made me some coffee and helped with the shawls, and the finding of the camera charger (I remembered!), and the packing of the bag. And I found the fucking wedding lipstick. And the underwear. And any number of other things. And crammed them all in a bag and flitted out the door.
The breakfast? The good breakfast everyone told me to have, very important, don't miss it?
Not a chance.
Breakfast of champions post-hair appointment? A Balance bar. And ooh la la Champagne.
We'd left his car downtown the night before, so he drove me into the city, parked, foisted Gatorade on me, and kissed me goodbye as I sprinted down the block to the salon.
And the next time we saw each other, he had on his tuxedo, and I had on my big princess dress, and it felt like we had all the time in the entire world.