And not just because somehow this ended up being the week when every mundane task that my job could possibly have ended up all together. I sigh at my work computer again. “Bad day?” Candace asks, walking by. She’s carrying a bag of carrot sticks. “Whose wedding?” I ask her instead, trying to take the focus off me and my sad problems. I have another job offer, my estranged sister wants me to be in her wedding, and hey, hey, my ex-boyfriend’s back. And I have nine hundred bills to write checks for and process in the agency’s online budgeting system. Hip hip hooray. Candace shakes her head slightly. “Bar mitzvah. Friend of Bob’s son.” “Isn’t Bob’s son your son?” She frowns and looks at the ceiling tracing invisible lines with her finger. “A friend of Bob’s from work, it’s his son.” “Oh.” “Yeah. Too many trails there. Anyhow, I’ve got to fit back into The Dress.” I grin. Candace has one dress she wears to every wedding, funeral, and apparently bar mitzvah she goes to.
