In the car on the way to work this morning, while I was freaking out my lifelong tendency to take on too much (there are new, shiny things I’d like to do), I said, “. . . and I’ll never accomplish anything and we’ll die in abject poverty and shame.”
Smoothly and without blinking, my husband said, “Technically it won’t be abject poverty. We are above the poverty line.”
That’s my guy.