A gift from my bridal shower; the gift-giver said her grandmother would say this all the time.
And FYI, so not true.
I know I’m not a food photographer. I can’t even properly work Rob’s awesome camera. It’s so much easier for me to just bring it to him and say “It’s not working. Why won’t it just do what I want it to do?!” And he’s usually pretty patient with me. He explains that I need to read the manual if I’m going to use it, while he adjusts the setting so that I can take pictures. Then I get to skip away, snap a few shots, and bring the camera back to him when something needs to be adjusted.
I know this makes me a complete whiner. I’m not debating that- I totally need to read the camera manual. But it’s one example of how Rob does all of these little things for me, even though there’s absolutely no reason he has to.
He takes the dog out to pee at night (most of the time) because the park behind our place is creepy when it’s dark, and all I can picture are zombies coming for me. He does the grocery shopping so I don’t end up mauling someone in a fit of “YOUR CART IS TAKING UP THE WHOLE ISLE” rage. He makes sure I’m not the one driving in heavy traffic- but that’s probably just for the greater good of society. And I don’t know many people who would go out and get a job in Portland, Oregon, just because it would make their wife ridiculously happy, even though it means leaving everything (including all of their furniture) behind.
I love this funny, geeky, cute man named Rob. Happy 4 married years, honey.