Of course, part of giving Martha her due is recognizing that I am no Martha. I wish I was, truly I did. When I got laid off earlier this year, I figured I'd use my free days to turn my house into a domestic paradise. Guess what? No, I didn't. My house stayed in roughly the same condition it's in when I'm employed. Because that's how much I care. The only thing I cannot stand is clutter. I am constantly fighting the battle against having too much stuff, and in a small NYC apartment, the battle is constant. There's nowhere for stuff to hide. Given that I am planning a wedding, I now have mountains of wedding materials all over my apartment. And it's driving me crazy. I can't wait to get all this stuff out of my house!
Which brings me to the topic of the guest book- am I really going to look through it after the wedding is over? Probably not. Is it just going to sit in some box or on some shelf taking up space? Probably. I'm not all that in love with it- it is what it is, a plain simple book. And do people really enjoy signing the book when they go to weddings? I've been to a decent number of weddings, but I've never heard someone yell, "Ooo, the GUESTBOOK!" with the same enthusiasm they reserve for the bride or the cake or the bar. I'm tempted to cut it. Weighing the regret of not doing it versus the annoyance of having to lug the thing around for the rest of my life. Amazingly, knowing me, I think it's the latter that will bug me more.