Realizing you’re in desperate need of groceries, scribbling the items down and handing them to your husband. Then realizing you’ve written on disgustingly girlie notepaper:
But your husband – whom you already adore because he’s willing to save you from the headache of fighting for carts, long lines, tired children, grouchy mothers, etc., by going the grocery, doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He simply takes the paper and thanks you (!) for giving him a list.
If reincarnation is true, then I hope I’m good enough in this life so I get him again in the next.
