And the Denis Pete and I have been busy “nesting”. This lack of a job has made me go into a cleaning frenzy, which I guess is a good thing. It also caused me to buy paint, recruit a fiance, and paint the guest bedroom in a day.

I really like the color, and I’m hoping that I can find some cool curtains at the Ikea tomorrow. I have something in mind, but we’ll see if it works out or not. I was picturing it more for downstairs, but anyway. As you can see in the above pic, I am breaking out like crazy. But this is due to my first facial/glycolic peel, which is supposedly going to make my skin better by the wedding…but will promptly make it worse before it gets better. At least Peter looks cute. The torture of being a bride.

The job prospects are going ok, I’m waiting to hear back from a few places, and it’s hard to wait. I picked up a freelance blogging job, finally, so that’s good, because it’s a start. I still hate the fact that I’m not working at Harcourt anymore, and still get a little angry sometimes because I miss my friends here. I think to myself, “It’s not fair, why did they pick only me?” But as everyone keeps telling me, everything happens for a reason. When God closes a door he opens a window. Etc etc etc. It’s just hard to focus on that part when I’m not sure how I’m going to make my mortgage payment after my severance runs out. I hope something comes through soon. I try not to show that I’m worried, but I am starting to freak out. Week two of severance is about to kick in, and my mom will be coming up during the week. That will be a good diversion, and the house will be clean, which is a bonus. I might have her help me go through some of the boxes I have full of notes and letters, because I don’t think that I can throw all that away on my own. I need someone to hold my hand.

I have been reading a lot about being a bride-to-be, and how it’s so much more than just planning a wedding. I really think that’s true. Planning the wedding is fun and stressful, and I’m happy to be engaged, but there are things that are weird for me. I know nothing about being a wife, and once I become one, will I still be the same? Taking Pete’s last name is another issue. I’ll do it, because I want to, but it is just so significant. It means that a part of me is gone. I never moved to NY, I never pursued publishing there, I never made my solo trip to Europe to backpack for months at a time. It’s hard to let that go. And the instinctive wanting to “nurture” and take care of Peter is crazy weird. I want to cook and keep the place clean and do laundry. Totally anti-Lindsay. Changes, changes. I’ve never been good at situational change, and this is a big one. I think that we have been navigating it ok, and I’ve been spending a little more time alone than usual, which I’m cool with. My stupid body hates stress, so I guess that the alone time is a regenerative thing. Anyway, babble babble off to bed.