I picked something up in Target today, and I'm not talking about a six-pack of paper towels or a pair of tights---though I picked both of those up too---but rather something germy. Seriously, I walked into the store feeling fine and walked out half an hour later with a sore throat, a stuffy nose, and horribly achy sinuses. Since I've been home, I've sneezed roughly once every 12 minutes. Is it actually possible for me to have caught a cold in Target, do you think? I mean, I know they have everything there, but I didn't really think that included picornaviruses, did you?
In other news, my parents left today, to go back to Singapore after two weeks in California, and I've been experiencing a low-grade homesickness all day. This has had the unfortunate result of making me feel like I'm eleven years old and facing my first week at boarding school by myself again, and that's something I've found about homesickness, or about missing people in general, I guess: it never really gets easier. Logically, one should build up a hardy tolerance against this sort of thing, shouldn't one, especially when the goodbyes are always between the same people. But somehow it doesn't work like that, and here I am, turning 29 next month, still missing my mum and dad. Possibly this changes when you have your own children (does it?), but somehow I rather suspect not.
While my parents were here, I seized the opportunity to have my mother come dress shopping with me---we're talking wedding dresses here, obviously, in case there was any doubt; DO I EVER TALK ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE ANYMORE?---and we hit three stores in two days, the end result being that we were both entirely wedding-dressed out by three o'clock on Saturday afternoon. I had originally thought I'd narrowed the search down to six, but having reviewed the photos yesterday with a merciless and unforgiving eye, I'd say we're actually closer to two, which is something of a shame, actually, as it put an end to my hilarious joke that I could just buy all six and change every hour ("like a Diana Ross concert," agreed my mother.)
But here is the thing, though, and married ladies, I could use your input on this: how am I supposed to know when I've found The One? (Um, the dress, I mean, not the boy. Think I'm clear on that one.) I'm fickle by nature, you see, and I change my mind often. What if I buy the dress I think is The Dress To End All Dresses, only to find myself browsing bridal magazines a week after I've ordered it and realizing I made a horrible mistake? Everyone said I'd just know when I tried the dress on---"you'll just know, trust me, you'll just know!"---but so far I don't know anything; I mean, at the time, I thought all six of my favorites could be My Favorite, but that was before I saw the pictures and realized that an empire waist (on me) has the unfortunate effect of placing me somewhere in the early to mid second trimester, so apparently my opinion is not to be trusted at all.
There is one, though, that I can't get out of my head, and it was the first one about which I had the very succinct thought: I DO NOT WANT TO TAKE THIS ONE OFF. But then I thought that about the next one and the next one too, and so apparently I just like trying on pretty dresses, and when you're trying on pretty dresses, it's hardly surprising that you don't want to take them off, is it?
(Just between you and me, though, I do kind of think it might be The One. I find myself looking at the pictures of myself wearing it when I'm supposed to be composing invoices or writing thank you letters, which means either I'm a weirdo egomaniac or this dress is something special. Then again, I don't have any pictures of the other top contender---there aren't even any on THE INTERNET, if you can believe it---so I don't really have anything to compare it to. And both dresses are so incredibly different that it's like comparing chalk and cheese. Or Jim Halpert and Don Draper, if you will. I mean, you wouldn't say no to either, would you, but it would be pretty hard to choose.)
Anyway, I'm going back to both stores with my friends in a couple of weeks for a second opinion, so until then I shall just ruminate, and then ruminate some more, and then maybe finish up that ruminating with a half hour or so of gentle ruminating. That's when I'm not blowing my nose and hacking up my lungs every fourteen seconds, of course. That trip to Target was so not worth the deal I got on those dark chocolate oatmeal Kashi cookies, that's for sure.