Dear Diary,

Yesterday was my brother Mike’s wedding to the lovely Cate.

The ceremony was held in my parents’ backyard, which looked resplendent on that stunning autumn day. I’m not sure that I, myself, was looking my best. We groomsmen arrived on the scene on a trailer covered in hay, a substance to which I am moderately allergic; I’m afraid I walked down the aisle red-eyed and squinty, my hair disheveled from the wind and bits of straw clinging to my black suit.

(You may ask, why hay? I did. Answers were not forthcoming.)

The reception was also in the backyard, around the newly installed pool. Cate arranged everything so absolutely beautifully that the dangers of mixing that venue with an open bar were not immediately obvious. All I know is that several hours into it, my four brothers and their friends were diving and pushing each other into the pool fully clothed, and they shortly thereafter organized a posse to round me up and toss me in, as well.

I don’t think I’d go around radiating such disapproval if the people I encounter didn’t automatically give into their most asinine and uncivilized impulses. What, dear Diary, do you think?

Humbly yours,
David