I leave the house in the morning at my usual time, go to the office and do the usual things. Well, except for my first and last trip to the Social Security office to report my Father’s death and to return to them a check that was sent for the month of June, making me the only person there trying to return money. Suffice it to say that the place was standing room only inside the building and outside for half a block onto Cary Street. The wait time was estimated to be 2 hours. To the uninitiated, it would appear that the only people interested in Social Security at the Cary Street office were African American or Latino. Regardless, I decided that I would try the website instead, at which I was implored to call an 800 number to locate the office nearest me. Sigh…
Anyway, what has made this week so strange is the fact that for me it has been like any other week, while Pam, Kaitlin and everyone else staying at what has become my boarding house have been engulfed in a tsunami of calligraphy, fabric, poster board and the color "oasis" (which is translated "teal" for anyone who doesn't work at David's Bridal). I walk in the place to grab some lunch and they are all hunched over on the floor working away like Santa’s elves. This all makes me feel like a complete slug, since I have nothing to do. Yes, I pay for it all, but it takes me like two minutes to write the checks, then I wander around the house looking for something to do to make myself useful. I take out the trash. I empty the dishwasher. I cook meat on the grill when asked, but that’s about it.
So, I’ve had all kinds of time to sit around worrying about the Father of the Bride toast. What do I say? Will I get choked up? Honestly, since I’ve never given a daughter away before, I have no idea what it will be like. Will I get sentimental, or will I get all protective and try to talk her out of it at the last minute?
Then there’s the Father/Daughter dance thing. I’m not much of a dancer, and to tell the truth, neither is Kaitlin. Somebody should take a video of the thing and market it on Facebook as “White People Dancing.” But at the same time, I don’t want to embarrass myself, or Kaitlin. Lucky for me, there will be champagne at the reception.
Of course, there’s the sitting thing to worry about. When I go to weddings, or any public event for that matter, I’m not very good at sitting for long periods of time, “long” here being defined as anything over 7 minutes. I’m more of a work the room kind of guy. Plus, when I’m at someone else’s wedding, I always leave before the cake eating part, much to Pam’s dismay. Well, I can’t leave this wedding. I’m there for the duration.
So, while Pam has worried about every single detail of the blessed event for the better part of 18 months now, I’m left to worry only about dancing and sitting. Doesn’t seem quite fair.