After a rousing scuffle and what always seems to boil down to a bruised ego (not mine – I remain composed and rational), he asked, “Do you still want to get married?” I glanced at the sparkling addition to my finger accessories and gave a woeful nod.
Then I sped off to a 4.30pm spinning class with the false belief that I might drop a dress size by the big day, as motivation.
A month ago he popped the question and stress levels for both of us have risen dramatically as we try to squeeze the demands and expectations of everyone and ourselves into a tightly cropped spending plan.
As of yesterday the long long-awaited wedding was nearly off. You would think agreeing on a venue to accommodate not us, but the menu (I can’t stand how they rhyme – like a When Harry met Sally mismatch made in Hell) would rank up there with the simple things to accomplish.
Do you, Venue with Little Appeal but Lots of Resources take Caterer 1 to nourish and serve guests at said wedding? Or do you, Venue with Charm and a Beautiful Garden But No Resources take Caterer on Budget Menu, Yet to be Seen, as the only viable option?
Having already seen two caterers, both with relatively mouth-watering offers, on paper that is, I was required to explore the option of yet a third, the samplings of whom I found rather distasteful.
Well, the beau hit the roof at my dismissive tone and the very foundation of the wedding shook. Foundation is a slight over statement as nothing has been booked at this stage in large part due to the marital challenges of Mr Venue and Ms Menu