So.
You married a writer. Oops. I mean: congrats. You did the right thing. I assume love was on the table, plus it’s a nice thing to be in love with a perpetual daydreamer. I mean, the dishes won’t get done, and you can forget about laundry EVER being folded unless you do it, but hey. Dreams. They matter. Here’s the thing about marrying a writer: we’re pretty typecast as introverts, obsessed with hiding our Google search histories and nurture unhealthy obsessions on the whether or not the oxford comma has a place into today’s writing (um, yes.) That typecast is usually spot on, but in a lot of cases its not, so take this with a grain of salt. Unless I just described your partner. In which case: continue on to find tips my husband and I have navigated to make our marriage functional and joyful.
And do the laundry.
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