In bed, last night. Fiancé is reading, so I have a pillow over my eyes to block the light. The scalloped eyelet edge of it is hanging over my eyes, like a veil. Fiancé turns to me.
Fiancé: Aww, that’s how my beautiful bride is going to look on our wedding day.
Me: (contented sigh as I settle deeper into covers and prepare to doze off) Mmmhmm, only four months from now.
Fiancé: It’s three months away.
Fiancé: (counting out fingers) Mid-July, August, September, mid-October. Three months.
Me: Sweet mother of crap! How did I lose a month!? (spend next two hours staring at ceiling contemplating the 457 things I have to get done between now and Oct. 25)
* It’s not really profanity if it comes from Dorothy Parker.