Oh how I hate....

Several friends have prompted me to write about my upcoming wedding, and I would have already done so if I had a half-way decent internet connection. But alas, Rabbit Run Farm(My parents house) is stuck in the age of dial-up leaving me bitter and frustrated when it comes to blogging.

I plan on blogging about how I met the most wonderful man in the whole world (sometime in the near future), and what led me (a person deeply afraid of commitments) to take the plunge into the great unknown (needless to say he's really special and there is no way I could live without him).

But today, I think I will focus on garage sales. Garage sales are the bane of my existence... The absolute fuel that causes all the love in my heart to be drained. So why I agreed to participate in three of them is beyond me. The logic seemed worthy as my mom explained that my poor new husband was going to have to bear the brunt of all the trinkets I had collected since pre-school. I lived in horror of trashing out his house with polly pockets and grand champion horses. I was just about ready to do anything to save my pride from taking box after box of crap to my man's house. Plus, my mom explained that the money earned from the garage sale could go towards the wedding.

Three garage sales later - I was ready to kill anything and anyone in my path. But we did manage to make a little money (and all the stuff went to Goodwill so I never have to see it again. While in my head I know that garage sales and purging are not the end of the world, I think it is still going to take me some time to quit shuddering at the very mention of those words.