The Chronicles Of Jessica

In approximately 32 hours I'll no longer be single.

In terms of the world at large I think it's a fairly median age to be getting married but in terms of my family I'm considered kind of a late bloomer. In fact I'm fairly certain my grandmother secretly thought I was a lesbian until we put down a non-refundable deposit on the catering.

I'm really happy to be getting married. Paul = Awesome. But I guess there are some things I'll miss about being on my own. During certain weeks of the month I used to do a fair amount of sitting around in a pair of double XL boxer shorts nursing a bucket of fried chicken and watching Hugh Grant movies; I don't see that happening much anymore. I also liked to occasionally eschew shaving and pretend I was living in France and make General Food's International coffee. And Paul doesn't allow certain things in the house that used to be standard fare, such as Britney. Or Janet. Or vegetables.

But he is always willing to kill the bug. He does a mean Al Gore impression. He loves my cooking. He never minds my breath in the morning (which frankly, could take paint off). He is lovely and tender and kind and I can't believe my good luck that he asked me to marry him.

At some point I'll have time to write about the full wedding planning experience, which is formidable. My mother will never be the same. Also I forgot to lose ten pounds. But I think the whole production will come off beautifully, and we will have an amazing time. And at the end of it all, we'll be married, and Paul will be under legal obligation to kill any bugs in our domicile. (I stuck it in the vows, just in case.)