Becoming Irrational: I will answer that question again in mid-July

This one is for anyone who's ever been a bride ...

You know how busy and stressed you get with, say 24 days left until your wedding? Picture yourself in that mode.

John (at 8:45 p.m. after we met with the DJ last night): So, what're we doing for dinner?

(So I could've said "I don't know." Or "leftovers." Or "What do you want?")

Instead, I became a tiny bit of bridezilla ...

Me: I am not answering that question any more. I have too much to do. I have to think of all these things we didn't know for the DJ, the house is a mess with things all over the place. I do not have time to think about dinner. I know, you need your dinner, and that's fine. But I'm done. I'm not having a say on dinner until we get back from the honeymoon. I cannot add that stress to my life. Either you can make something, or I will forage. I'm perfectly fine foraging.

John: But you don't have any food at your house.

Me: I do so have food at my house. Just not the food you want. I have lots of bagels.

John: Uh ... how about the leftover cabbage rolls?

Me: No. I had those for lunch today. And yesterday. I don't want them anymore. You can have them. I'll have a bagel.

John: I need to stop by the store to get *

Me: Oh, well if you're going to the store, why don't we have paninis?

John: Do you have bread?

Me: No, but you're going to the store ...

John: OK, I'll get something.

Fast forward to 9:15ish. I'm on the phone when John walks in with a grocery bag.

John: Where's that can of tomatoes that I brought over yesterday?

Me: (mouthing) I don't know. I didn't touch them.

John: But they were on the counter in a M---- bag.

Me: (Hold on, Mom) I don't know where the tomatoes are. Were they in the bag with your shirt? I did move that out of the kitchen. (to Mom: We can't find tomatoes.)

John: No, they were in a M----- ba - oh wait, here they are on the floor in a T----- J-- bag.

Me: (to Mom) OK, tomatoes found.

Fast forward again when I get off the phone.

Me: Wait, what are we having? What are you doing with tomatoes?

John: Chicken.

Me: I thought were were going to have paninis. Isn't it going to take awhile to make this?

John: It's faster than paninis.

Me: Um, OK.

Fast forward to the 10 o'clock hour, when we eat. After all my whining, bridezilla behavior, I end up with way more than I deserve: chicken cacciatore over rice with a side of green beans.

Not only is John an excellent cook, but he also wants me to have more than night after night of "I'm-too-tired-to-cook-so-I'll-eat-a-bagel."

I shall mend my ways. I shall squash bridezilla when she rears her ugly head. I shall not go off on innocent questions. I shall cook more. I shall have ideas. I shall not complain about food.

And I shall do all that in mid-July. Because I know John understands - and he knows I have a lot going on.

Am I lucky or what?


* I honestly can't remember why he had to stop by the store.