It was a rare snowy day in County Wicklow, Ireland. Not many of these days came along, but when they do, they don’t disappoint. Unfortunately, both you and Andrew aren’t really built for that kind of cold, so he’s took it upon himself to make a fire in the fireplace.

But he needed one thing. Firewood. Which he did not have. So, he wasn’t to go and get some, because he was far too impatient to be chipping some out in the freezing cold.

And you? You were sat in the living room reading a book. Doing nothing. But when he came back with aforementioned firewood, you took the honor of opening the door for him as he came in with a hefty armful to set by the fireplace.

He often cracked jokes about how you never ever did any heavy lifting around this house. That you just sat and looked pretty or just read. Which he didn’t have much of a problem with.. he preferred it, actually. What kind of gentleman makes his spouse carry firewood? God forbid you get a splinter or something.

“You better love this fire. I just about got frostbite going out to get it.”

He teases, knowing full-well he’s being over dramatic.