|Wedding detritus: the first tale of the wedding weekend
||[Nov. 5th, 2009|08:34 pm]
Sunday morning: I can't even begin to describe the post-bachelor/ette party condition of my house. After 50 guests in the house, it looked like there'd been a frat party. We made some headway in picking up the recyclables and trash (thank you so much, tithenai, for all your help!) before we had to get ready and head out for the wedding site.
Monday morning: Ooooh, no, please don't ask me to clean!! Fortunately, we still had guests so we couldn't *possibly* clean when we still had to entertain.
Tuesday and Wednesday: Stabs at cleaning.
So here we are now:
Dining room: Baba Yaga and her house of chicken legs are snuggled up by a stuffed pony, all leaning crazily against a pile of 300 paper plates. The canvas bag of emergency supplies - sewing kit, band-aids, safety pins, etc. - is still waiting to be unpacked. Oh, and a gray bag with a camera lens. Anyone want to claim it?
Master Bedroom: Improbably, a fake mustache rests on the dresser. I can't quite explain that....
Guest Bedroom: We will daintily close the door upon the detritus of the Bride and her Beast.
Office: My dress and stuff, still in a trash bag on the floor. Oh, and a stray black shoe. Anyone want to claim it?
Family room: Other than the shifting of furniture, remarkably clean. s00j and company are very good at being vagabonds and respecting their space.
Sewing Room: Piles of taffeta are scattered everywhere. Scraps and threads all over the floor. A complete mess. But, Janice the seamstress did make up for her mess by leaving behind scissors, thread, needles, pins, and other stray bits.
Bathroom: Rumors that we now own a large black dog are completely untrue. Instead, it was a black Cat, who sheds. The number of hair products, face products, razors? Rather overwhelming. I assume they all belong to Cat and D, but if you left them behind? Not worth claiming.
The wedding I will write about soon. But I had to take a moment to memorialize the backstage parts of the experience. It will soon be cleaned up and forgotten if I don't, and it's dear to me.