I'm heading out in a minute or two to New Brunswick to get the last-minute wedding planny things out of the way. I cannot believe we have two days to go. Tomorrow is the rehearsal and Saturday is the wedding and if the phrase "shitting bricks" were literal I'd be sitting on a brick wall. I'm nervous, excited, happy, stressed, sleepy and pumped. And cold. Very, very cold. Old Man Winter has decided to show up in typical douchebaggish fashion nice and early.

I'll be back on or after October 26, with a tummy full of cheese and baguettes from Paris and lots and lots of pictures.

In the meantime...keep fit and have fun!

Way back in the early summer, I booked this entire week off from work in order to get ready for my wedding (which is happening THIS SATURDAY. That's right. Five days from RIGHTTHISMINUTE I'll be married up and well on my way to drunksville at the reception, getting down with my elderly uncles on the d-floor to Fishin' in the Dark.)

The plan was to take the last few days before the wedding off from work in order to get all psyched and prepared and finish last-minute tasks, chill out at home, perhaps get a massage or just spend a couple of days gearing up for what will arguably be the most important day of my life thus far.

As it turns out, I'm working tomorrow and Wednesday--I couldn't stomach the thought of taking a full two weeks off. And I'm feeling utterly guilty for taking off Thursday and Friday to get ready for the wedding, along with the honeymoon the following week.

I am by no means an abuser of vacation time. I have taken a whopping two vacation days this year, both of which were leftover vacation days I didn't get a chance to take in 2008, and I've taken perhaps two sick days (during which I worked from home, because I freak out about work, even when I'm hacking up a lung or toilet-bound for the day). The idea of calling in sick when I'm not on the verge of death is never an option.

Even despite the opposite of abusing my time-off privileges, I feel pretty horrible about requesting a total of eight days off to get ready for my wedding and enjoy my honeymoon. What is wrong with me?!

I'm paranoid that during those eight days, it will become apparent that I'm not necessary at the office, that the world does in fact continue to turn without me being there, and I'll come back to a pink slip.

I'm afraid clients will be upset if I'm not accessible to them for several days (although I'm giving everyone an alternate point of contact before I leave), or that projects will go off the rails.

I'm frightened I'll forget to brief my teams on some seemingly little detail that snowballs into a major issue and things will fall apart. I'm scared that people will be resentful of the fact that I'm off having fun in another country and will completely hate me when I return.

I feel like having this sort of anxiety over eight days' vacation is a little bit excessive. The fact that I realize I have a problem is something, right? Admitting it is the first step, and all that?

Does anyone else feel this kind of stress before taking a vacation? I don't know how European people are able to take six weeks off each year and not freak out about it, because frankly, a week and a half is driving me absolutely batty.

My name is Amy, and I'm a guiltoholic.

Over the past month or so, my peaceful snoozes have been interrupted by horrendous nightmares several times, which is unusual for me since I don't usually have dreams and especially not ones that I remember afterward. The common denominator of these nightmares is...dun dun dunnnnn...our wedding. Not monsters or demons or being chased or being naked in front of a crowd. Nope--it's a wedding ceremony!

Nightmare #1
We're setting up the resort for the ceremony and my task is to put programs on the chairs where guests will be sitting. Every time I turn around, all of the programs have fallen on the floor and I have to go back and do them over again. Meanwhile, there's a massive clock on the wall going TICK! TICK! TICK! and the ceremony is about to start, guests are arriving, the floor is covered with programs and I'm sobbing.

Nightmare #2
The wedding is starting in 15 minutes and I haven't had a shower. I'm wearing Umbro shorts and a tank top and have no makeup on.

Nightmare #3
The most recent iteration, from two nights ago. I arrive at the wedding venue wearing a brown cape over my dress. I can't get the cape off. It's attached. I rip it off. My hair and makeup look like dogshit, but at least the cape is gone. I get to the back of the church and look down the aisle and H2B is wearing this garish white and black patterned tux, which is a surprise, but whatever. Dad and I start down the aisle and there is no one on my side of the church. Not one guest. Not one attendant. I sit down in the middle of the empty chairs and start sobbing. I wake up actually crying.




We have eight days to go and I hope that these dreams are not signs of the imminent nervous breakdown I'm about to experience. This weekend I have a couple of last-minute things to do...printing table numbers, filling favour bags, and building centrepieces...but once those things are done, I want to spend the weekend relaxing and not doing weddingy things. I want to pick apples, watch movies, go shopping, bake and take pictures outside. I want to hang out where I grew up and just relax and reflect on my last weekend as a single gal. Wow.

I'm feeling happy and sad all at once. Nervous and excited and optimistic and paranoid about programs falling on the floor and hideous tuxes. I feel more 'adult' than ever but at the same time I want to go home and have my parents look after me this weekend. Or Xanax. And/or alcohol.