Weight of the World and Wedding Dresses

So October is a spectacularly diabolical month. Not only did the Man get one of those devastating tax letters saying he owed money due to their cock up, but the car took a large chunk of my wedding fund as the government insists it be insured. Also, work has been unbelievably taxing. No manager, a bunch of childish colleagues, and I am about ready to implode. And to top it off I get told I have already used all my holiday! Lies.

So bring on November, I finally have a little wedding nest egg to feel better about due to it being payday today, and all my overtime literally paid off (well not all, tax stole a large sum, thanks you big bugger of a system). Hopefully Man's tax will be sorted, the honeymoon will be booked at the end of November and I can buy the bridesmaid dress fabric next weekend!

Just ONE good week, please! This half term week has been horrific, and things need to desperately pick up at work before my head spins off my shoulders.

On a positive note finally, I have a wedding dress! 10 million shops later and I have the perfect one at a bargain price. There's no going back now, 8 months to go, and I have flowers, centrepieces, suits, shoes, dresses and favours clogging up my brain as I contend with a constant battle to balance everything that is being thrown at me in this half of the year. The Dog Dylan is eating everything in sight, pooing and peeing on everything he can cock his leg up when we are out of the house. He has definitely hit the terrible two's.

I get home from work last night, go to the kitchen and spot my packet of cookies, my first treat in two months and I hadn't even opened them). They were open, so I pick them up, waving it under Man's nose. APPARENTLY he had a couple (insert guilty cheeky grin here) because the DOG had started it. Looking closer, I noticed the pack had indeed been violently violated, and there it was, the evidence. A white, unmistakably Dylan dog hair hanging off the torn packet.

So I did what anyone else would have, I screamed the dog's name, stormed into the living room and there he was. As guilty as anything looking back at me as I wave this half eaten packet frantically. And to top it off, I'd caught him red handed, licking and nosing a cookie on the rug.

2minutes later I had a sulking dog with guiltily pinned back ears nuzzling my toes for forgiveness after angrily tapping him across the nose with the victimised cookie.

Don't even ask what he did to my homemade lasagne on Monday night....