Organization Schmorganization

Organization Schmorganization
Love, Self

Colleen leaves the organizing to her fiance.

When I was at my sister’s house visiting a few weeks ago, I was looking through her wedding albums trying to find poses and pictures that I liked so I could show my photographer. One of the albums was a thick black binder with a cute flowery title “Megan and Matt’s Best Laid Plans.” I held it up.

“What’s this?” I asked my sister.

“It was the binder for our wedding– you know, contracts from all our vendors, business cards, the vows; all the details to keep me organized.”

My mouth fell open. “Am I supposed to have one?”

“Well, you have something, right? A folder or something where you keep everything?”

Um, no.

My mom, who was there visiting as well, balked. “Colleen! Even I have a binder where I’m keeping stuff for your wedding. How are you ever going to know where everything is?”

Now I felt worse than a bad bride– I felt like an idiot bride. How was I supposed to know? Maybe the rule about keeping a binder is in one of those hundreds of wedding magazines I have yet to read. I’ve never exactly been organized, wedding or not. So my first inclination is not to make a fancy binder to keep everything wedding-related.

“It doesn’t have to be fancy,” my mom said, “but you do need to get something where to stuff contracts in so you have them at hand.”

“OK,” I said. That was three weeks ago and I have yet to buy any such thing.

On Sunday night, Fred and I had our engagement photos taken at the park. It was about 101 degrees in the shade. Every time we kissed for the camera, I would leave puddles of sweat and make-up on Fred’s face.

As we were leaving, I asked my photographer if he wanted me to book him a hotel room the night of our wedding. “That would be great,” he said. As Fred and I were walking to the car, I told him to remind me to book the room this week.

“You know, we should really get a folder or notebook or something where we write all this stuff down,” he said.

“That’s a really good idea,” I said, then smiled. “You can be in charge of that.”