I have Biggie Smalls in my head right now, except when he says “notorious” the word in my head is “victorious.” In fact, if the lyrics to this track weren’t so heavy on f-bombs and “gettin’ head on the beach,” I might dance down the aisle to it this Saturday, when I finally get to marry the bearded man I’ve been in love with for the past 8 years.
Today has been a good day. Last week, not so much. It started on Wednesday when I crossed the wedding liquor order off my to-do list, then decided to take my BevMo wine-tasting buzz to Ross Dress for Less for a little accessory shopping. There I was, browsing cheap cardigans, when the port-a-potty vendor I’d booked three months earlier called to cancel just 10 days before our 120 guests would potentially be peeing in the woods of Berkeley, California. I stammered something into the phone then hung up feeling dazed. The sweater aisle at Ross is no place to receive bad news.