Karma and the Upcoming Wedding

That this wine glass broke while I was emptying the dishwasher fills me with karmic emotion.
Today was a wonderful day. I met C_______ at Kleinfeld's this morning, even though C_______ felt like death. She was hungover in a way that would certainly preclude my own keeping of an appointment, and yet even put on a cute outfit for the occasion of my first ever bridal dress trying--on session.
Only rich people buy wedding dresses at Kleinfeld's, as the addage goes. C_______ and I went for the "sample sale." The sample sale was for rich people.
"What's your budget?" was the natural first question, as we were guided toward the $4,500 section of the "sale." We pretended to pick through the racks for a few seconds, "too prommy; too beige; too shimmery" and made our way down to the $799 section of things.
Boy, was that end a mess.
"Why would anyone buy a gold wedding dress?"
Because it's $799?"
Long story short, I bought a dress. I understand the insanity now! I had no intention of buying a dress; we were only there to look, and yet when I tried on this amazing dress (which the saleslady brought to me NOT from the sale rack -- and yet somehow less pricey than much of what I'd seen -- I got that same tingly feeling as when I walked into my condo in DC for the first time. I. Just. Knew.
I'm not a bastion of self-esteem, and so I really don't think I've ever looked at myself in a mirror, proclaiming "I am gorgeous!" This dress did that for me. The saleslady said "Oh my God!" C_______ said "That's your dress. You have to get it. Oh my God." The accessories lady put her hand over her mouth. A consensus was reached regarding the crowd's response.
"Everyone will be in tears as you walk down the aisle."
Well, that's not really ever been my story, but I did it. I fell for it. Unreal.
I had to put down a 60% deposit, and following a rarely successful conversation with my mother, she agreed to pay the balance when the dress is ready.
Later on at work (yes, I did work for 2 hours on a Sunday in this heat) C______ texted me to tell me again what an amazing job we did; she is so happy for me; I seem so happy, yadda etc.
Back home, emptying the dishwasher, I felt some resistance on pulling out the top rack. I fiddled with it a little bit, removed the plastic travel salad bowl-- the one with the separately enclosed dressing area-- and felt and heard something give, followed by the disturbing shattering glass sound. I realized it was a wine glass when I saw all of the stems in the row, and felt really sad for a second. "Oh, please don't be one of the winery glasses from our trip to San Diego."
Best story ever. That broken wine glass, the one on the top of this post, was from J_____'s ex. They'd had a really expensive set or something, and she'd gotten to keep it. When he left, he took just that one with him, I guess hoping that one day she would be upset when she noticed it was missing.
What are we going to do at the end of our wedding ceremony? Break a glass, of course. From one shattering to another.
At the same time of the glass breaking, WFUV was tuning in the background some bluesy wedding music, so called.
Good day this was.