So, one year ago tomorrow, I got married. Middle of the pandemic meant a remote ceremony, with only my mom in attendance, with the county clerk and my wife’s parents on Zoom. We decided that we’d have a ceremony/wedding party one year later, on our first anniversary, which would be well after the pandemic, right?
Ha. Fucking. Ha.
Last night, my mom (who lives with my wife and me) had dinner with her brother’s family, and her sister who had flown in from out of town for the wedding. Her brother’s job requires a lot of public interaction, so he gets tested regularly, even when he doesn’t have symptoms.
This morning, his most recent test came back positive.
So, day before the wedding, we’re cancelling everything. I’ve spent the morning calling up all my friends and family and telling them the ceremony’s off. Several of them flew in from out of state for this. Some good friends I haven’t seen in going on two years because of this disease are just going to get on a plane and go back home, and it’s going to be another year or so until I can try again. My wife’s parents, who live on the east coast, are in a hotel literally across the street from us. We might do one distanced, outdoor dinner with them before they fly back on Saturday.
Luckily, we’re not out a ton of money. We were hosting it in our backyard, so we don’t have a venue to pay for. We’re out the deposit to the caterer, and the cost of the cakes we bought, but that’s about it. Also, we bought a ton of booze, which isn’t “lost money” at this point, so much as, “Plan B for what we’re doing this weekend.”
Guess we try again in six months.
Fucking covid.
