yet it's in the middle of the country ... I'm having a tree falling in the forest analogy here, sorry. Josh's cousin is getting married in Chicago. We've been invited.
The wedding is in a museum at night. They're going to like open a few different wings of the museum for the wedding I think. Since the wedding is at night I am taking that to mean it's okay to wear a black dress. We are going to leave on a Thursday and come home on the next Sunday, according to Josh. So now I am a person who goes on mini-vacations.
Even though I've been back at work for five seconds, now I have to go in tomorrow to arrange for two days off. The excitement of going to another city is overwhelming the panic of having to ask for time off, but just barely.
I feel like there's a tipping point, but don't know where it is. Like one day I'll be okay sleeping on 600 thread-count sheets that are never more than a year old, but then one day I'll wake up on those sheets and wonder when I became okay with having a doorman call up to announce the Town Car is downstairs to drive us to the airport for our first class flight to Europe and the driver wants to know if we'd like help with our bags. It just seems like a slippery slope. Maybe I would feel better if Josh had some regular friends who thought it was a great day to just go out to the beach for the day, bringing a picnic. He just does everything big. Where I'm like, "yeah, that'll do fine" Josh is always like "I know a way to make it even better!" It's like he can't be happy with things unless they're all perfect, and he's gotten everything that's the best that's offered. Meanwhile I'm like holy shit we're going to Chicago who cares if we have to take a bus and stay at a motel?
This is what is going to kill our relationship.
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