The things we do for love:
Wake up at 5AM both days of a weekend
Wet socks before 8AM both days of a weekend
Tolerate an intolerable (I even hugged her!)
Drive through the smell of Hamilton (sorry Steel-town, but that HAS to be mentioned)
Sleep on a couch a few years shorter than the adult me
Smelling absolutely vile, caked in sweat and grease and blood and champagne
Pulled in 18 different directions, none of which care about the me version of me
I may not love the things we do, but I do the things for love.
Tales of a Recovering Recoverer 