I wear my sunglasses at night.

OK, two things, people.

1) Remember that one time I was all whine-y, and mope-y, and like, "Boo. I haven't done any wedding planning. Sigh. I wish I was all immersed in it so I could feel like a real bride"? Yeah. Remember that? I changed my mind.

Suddenly, there's, like, fourteen-million-and-three things to think about. Head counts and invitations and programs and decorating and money and honeymoon planning and party favors and ceremony details and HOW AM I GOING TO DO MY HAIR? Ugh. And WHO, please, is going to make sure I don't have to think about ANYTHING except how fabulous my dress is on my wedding day? And also, you know, that one part where I marry the man of my dreams, etc. And I'm also going to need a personal air-conditioner by my side at all times because, in August? It's hot. And I sweat. And I am a crabby wench when I'm hot and sweaty. And WHAT KIND OF BRIDE sweats like a pig on her wedding day?

And when are we going to decorate the banquet hall? And WHO is going to make sure everyone gets their flowers? And also who is going to be liquor police and make sure The Fiance doesn't get plowed on our wedding night, and I have to peel him off the floor? AND WHY WON'T ANYONE PLAN MY BRIDAL SHOWER? Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

OK, wow. I totally feel better now.

On another, completely different topic, do you want to know how I spent my Sunday evening? On the couch, under a blanket, in the same clothes I slept in the night before, with bed-head, hot flashes and aviator sunglasses on my face. With all the lights off. And the TV on. The Fiance and I ordered pizza and watched a movie (The Life of David Gale, p.s., which is one of my ALL-TIME favorite movies ever) and I had The Worst Headache. So because, hi, you can't watch a movie without the television on, and I couldn't stare directly into the television's glow because, hi again, it made me want to throw up all over my lap, I opted for some killer aviator shades as a happy-medium.

It's cool. Don't you worry about it.