Postbox in the lobby: Full

We addressed our save-the-date cards today, stamped them, and chucked them into the mailbox in the lobby of our building. It's not easy trying to figure out how to skim an invitation list when it's 125 people long and our reception venue holds 80. Guess we'll have to do what so many others do and wait til we get regrets to send other invitations out. Which feels like hell. But I guess if that's our only worry right now, then we're doing pretty good.
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I keep getting a head of steam up to do wedding stuff (making various styles of shoulder coverings and headpieces, for instance), and then my motivation just deserts me. Not because I don't want to be married (I'm thrilled to be getting married) but because sometimes I really want to be able to call my mother or father and share everything with them, and there's nobody to call. And that idles my hands. The other morning, just as I was in that zone between sleeping and wakefulness, I dreamt I was on the phone with my mom, and we were having a conversation about all the things that had been going on since she died. I told her about being engaged and how we have plans for a nice but low-key wedding and reception, and we were just chatting away and laughing about how zany it is that I'm actually, finally, getting married. But then I started telling her about what I'm going to be for Hallowe'en, and the line went dead. I remember thinking "I wonder how come she hung up? Guess she's not all that interested in Hallowe'en." And then I woke up.
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For Hallowe'en, I'm going to be Cruella De Vil. I'm going to sew a huge white fake-fur coat, and line it with dalmation-print fabric. I'm also going to make an evil little purse out of fake fox tail. I have a white wig I'm going to dye half-black. I have red elbow-length gloves and a cigarette holder and red shoes. Tomorrow I'm going to begin drawing the pattern for the coat, and while I cut it out I'll begin thinking about makeup. On Hallowe'en, whenever anyone asks me how I'm doing, I'm going to say "Miserable, darling, as usual. Perfectly wretched."