A half-expected disaster.

Our families met for the first time last night, and I think it’s fair to say that Kate and I were half-expecting a disaster. Not that our families aren’t all wonderful people or anything, it’s just that, by this point, our nerves are so frazzled that we’re half-expecting disaster at any point. Opening up the fridge first thing in the morning? Half-expecting disaster. Getting into bed last thing at night? Half-expecting disaster. Everything else in-between? Half-expecting disaster. It’s not even that there’s actually BEEN any disasters so far to make us feel like this, more that we’re getting married the day after tomorrow and that’s kind of nerve-wracking.

I’ll say that again: We’re getting married the day after tomorrow. Jesus.

Anyway, our families met last night, and the worst thing that happened was that we had far too much food. Anyone in San Francisco who wants pizza, feel free just to ask. But the night itself was fun; everyone talked and got on, and my niece and nephew kept everyone entertained purely by being themselves; you haven’t lived until you’ve seen my nephew dance to the imaginary music in his head, after all. Today, everyone’s going to a ballgame so that they can mingle in the bleachers, and then Kate has a Bachelorette Party while I get to hang out with some of the Scotland contingent who came out to see us tie the knot, and then tomorrow the entire day is taken up by rehearsal shenanigans. So far, it feels like the last chance we had to relax was about a week ago, and it only gets busier from here on in (Of course, right now, I’m writing this and Kate is watching Jerry Lewis films on the TV, but still).

Yeesh.

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