MOTHERFLIPPINGFUCK.

After sitting in our living room for the past two hours trying to calmly discern Who is Going to Sleep Where in June, I proudly announced to M. that our wedding is exactly six months from today.

At which point M. calmly put down the mouse and demonstrated, using only the fingers of his right hand, that our wedding is, in fact, five months from today.

At which point I threw up, passed out, woke up, pooped my pants, and threw up again.