Love shares the details,
even when they're not that interesting.
even when they're not that interesting.
My dearest husband likes to play basketball. It's good for him, I'm sure. One of the most endearing things about him is that he doesn't care that I have a very limited capacity for understanding any type of sports. Regardless of my lack of attention or concern, he comes home from each basketball game (church league, industrial league, what have you league) and reports on how well he played, who used "dirty" tactics, if he felt slighted in the calls, etc. etc. ad nauseum (and I do mean nauseum.) The only thing I really care about is that he remains uninjured, but I do appreciate that he wants to share with me the details of his life.
In regards to organized athletic endeavors, I'm really begining to like football, purely as a spectator pursuit. However, I am very glad that he doesn't play football.
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