[...I'm very tired and I've had a generous glass of wine. So when I say "stream of consciousness" I mean "stream of nonsense."]
Today was invitation printing day. “Wait,” stalkers of my personal calendar of to-dos shout, “Wasn’t that last week?” “WAIT!” stalkers of my brainwaves that tell myself to do things before I break down and schedule them on my personal calendar of to-dos add, “wasn’t that LAST last week?”
YES. OK. ALL RIGHT. I have put this off a little bit.
Why? Probably because I knew I was going to have the micro-stroke I had this afternoon before heading over to Staples to print our invitations.
I reviewed the proofreading my wedding planner had sent back to me. I sent the corrected version to a trusted friend. Then I looked over it again myself, because like Mulder, I trust no one. I misspelled Chicken Piccata. I had the old exit number listed for the directions from the Turnpike. I figured if I found those two, there must be dozens of other errors lurking. I stared at my proofs until the surface of my eyes crystallized. Ok. Time to take measurements so I know the dimensions the cardstock backings need to be cut.
Where is my ruler? I know I have a ruler. Where is my box of stuff I put in the old desk that came with my last apartment? Collin just bought me a desk, so I really should move that box into these fancy new varnish-smelling drawers. NO, THERE’S NO TIME, WOMAN!
Ok, fine. I’ll combine the powers of the two pink drafting triangles that are in our filing cabinet for some godly reason to sort out how big these inserts are. Should my borders be 1/8″ or 1/4″? Why don’t we use the metric system? WHAT AM I SAYING? We killed Osama bin Laden! So use our nonsense measures and learn to love eight as a denominator, OK, rest of the world?
Ok I have my measurements. I have my proofread documents. What file formats does Staples accept? Only .jpg and .pdf? WHAT? Where’s my .eps option? Or at least .tiff, AMIRITE, dorks?
Collin, I need your help. I have to save these files as a .pdf. Let me use your evil Mac! (Any port in a storm!) What? I can do that with Word? Microsoft Word? Just come home and help me. HELP ME HELP ME HELP ME.
Take two vistaril. Breathe deeply. Let Collin take the helm for a minute. Ok, we’ve got our .pdfs.
WHERE DID MY 1/8″ OF BUFFER GO? I need that or my custom cutting will be a disaster!!! EXCLAMATION! I have to re-scale my main invitation? Oy. Vey.
Is that a freaking hyphen in that phone number? I WILL CUT YOU. I mean, yes, I literally will cut you, specialty document, but I am really saying I will figuratively cut you for containing, at my own fault, my #1 typographical enemy from my law review days. I will not shame Volume 71 this way. You’re getting en dashed!
Ok. Phew. Taken care of. What’s this, I didn’t put the website on the info insert? Oh, well, that’s an easy fix. Except that additional line of text brings me over-size. Maybe I should put the URL in the directions as a first-letter cipher? Or just adjust the between-line spacing until I’m back in my box. If I must be so dry.
Ok. Ok. Crises solved. Let’s go to Staples!
What what what! They’ve raised the price of custom cutting to $2 a cut? Well clearly I should just buy a hinge paper cutter for $30, right? That will save me like $10 whole bucks! That’s like a large pizza, at least on pick-up special.
Fast forward 5 hours. 1 hour spent doing “soothing” yoga. 4 hours spent cutting. And watching Veronica Mars. And cutting. And cutting. Homegirl can solve an entire b-plot case while I cut just one small stack of cardstock. And I still have oh so many papers to cut.
Thus far, my invitations are my definitely the most “D-I-WHY?” experience I’ve had in wedding planning. If only I’d ordered the cheapest of the cheap invitations and washed my hands of it. But I’ve come this far, and dammit, I’m going to finish these invitations that no one but me and Viki will hold on to.
So do you have any podcasts or dialogue-heavy movies to recommend while I continue my paper-cutting mission over the next few days?