“How about we choose 12 as our cooking orgy topic? You know, in each and every possible way. After all, twelve years seems to be quite a lot.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Well, the only thing I could complain of, but won’t, is that we’re both working too much and I don’t get to see you and do things together often enough.”
“True. But just imagine the other way around: What if you were happy for every minute you don’t get to see me by now?”🙂
😆 “I find it very important, and I didn’t know I would, that we often like the same films and books, like Terry Pratchett, Neal Stephenson and Galactica and so on. At least the tiny part of our lives called leisure is well spent. And of course, the everyday life – you know my definition of a real man: a real man simply does the dishes or irons his shirt without attaching any ideological or psychological damage whatsoever to the process.”
Later that day I wonder how feminist our smug talk about our wedded life actually was.