Courthouse of Love

Last night, my fiance and I got licensed.

To marry, that is.

I had never gotten a license to do anything except drive; thank goodness there was no test for this one, just a short questionnaire with questions like "are you already married," and "are you related." Ugh.

On the way to the courthouse, we were listening to the oldies radio station and heard the song "Chapel of Love." It was cute, in a completely cheesy way, and a nice moment in a time when we are stressed out over final details.

Later in the evening, we bickered about seating arrangements for the wedding reception and both ended up grumpy. We still have a ton of work left to do before the actual wedding day, and thinking about it probably didn't do much to make either of us feel better in that moment.

But hey, if it doesn't get done, it doesn't get done. We're licensed; we're set. All the rest of that stuff exists only so we can feel we've been hospitable. We could take our guests out to McDonald's and it wouldn't matter, because at the end of the day, we'd still be married. That's all either of us really wanted out of that day.

That is the whole point, after all.