Routine Malfunction

I have not yet gotten into a good morning routine at the new house. I had actually just barely gotten into one at the last place. The place before that, I had fourteen years of practice, and I had it down to a science. But then, you could stand just outside my bedroom and see every other point in the apartment, so making a bedroom-bathroom-kitchen-bedroom-GO! loop was very simple.

Since I’ve moved I’ve forgotten various things in the morning. Thursday it was my phone, which means I couldn’t turn off the alarm to let the handyman in and I was cut off from contact except via email. How 1996!

Granted, I’m a confused zombie when I get up and routine can’t mitigate against all morning disasters, but I’ve really got to figure out a way to spend the least amount of time with the greatest likelihood of remembering things. (So far my new-house record is waking up at 6:18 to catch the 6:37 bus.)

In quasi-related news, I bought a blow dryer and diffuser the other day. I’m probably a little old to be wandering into work with wet hair. Though that’s going to add time.

Daily life chez moi. The excitement never stop!

Yellow Shoes of Hopeful Happiness

When I was 29, I got engaged. In the few months before that and during the eight months between engagement and wedding, I read a lot of blog entries by women about their weddings. I remember two — one woman had a big traditional wedding and everyone carried red roses; I think her bridesmaids wore dark green and all the photos were taken in a park next to a meadow or some fields. The other woman ran off to Vegas with her intended and their families. She wore a funky mid-calf-length dress and bright yellow shoes.

At work I was suddenly wondering about a blogger I used to read, and I looked her up. She’s getting divorced. For some reason, mulling that over made me think of these two women back in 1996-97.

I wonder if they’re still married. (And I remember nothing else about them, except I think Vegas Bride was a receptionist in Austin, so I can’t even begin to check.) I know many of the people whose weddings I read about while planning mine are divorced. And then there’s me!

Reams and tomes have been written about modern relationships, marriages, and divorce. I’m not a sociologist so I really have nothing new to add, but I have to say it’s a gloomy thing. I was a bit of a bridezilla — in a more plaintive than demanding way — and I know from experience that all the elaborate wedding plans and beautiful weddings (or the disappointment of those plans) mean nothing in the long run. But I think of that young woman’s cheery yellow shoes and I hope she’s still with the guy she wore them for.