When I order a couple of pizzas and Michael asks me how much it costs, no matter what the price is, I always round up to about $35.00. Then he says, “Oh my God! That’s outrageous!” and generally has a fit. Thirty minutes later, when the pizza arrives and the delivery person says, “$26.00,” my poor sap of a husband feels the relief of getting a reprieve from the governor – even though he just spent $26.00 on dough and sauce.
It’s the little things that make a marriage last. Learn from me, young padawans.