Every Task You Undertake

I think forlorn is the right word. But if it's not, then it's a word I like. Maybe defeated and tired are better or more accurate, or whatever. That's how I felt after the collapse of Plans A, B, Bb, C, and D. And I resolved that I was done. Done with "Plans" or attempts or full-scale reconnaissance. I was just going to find a hotel and make my parents happy and try to repair my worsening ulcer by just choosing something.

And you know what? I did. I looked at about 20 more places, all in Baltimore. And then I went to the first one on the list. And it was really nice. Beautiful, in fact. Was it my personality? No. Was it where I envisioned getting married? No. Was it lovely? Absolutely. And so I told Mr. F. He looked. And agreed. Lovely. Done. And I told Mom and Dad. ["Yes Mom, it's a hotel. No Mom, it's not a Marriott."]

And lo and behold, they said ok.

And we actually signed a contract. And pried a deposit out of my Mom's tightly wound fist.

And I have a date. And a location.

Yes, I'm excited. But also, a little...forlorn.