That’s a direct quote.
Overhearing a co-worker’s effusive rundown of all the ways she is in love with her husband (they’re not even newlyweds) only makes me think one thing: I truly hope to be so disgustingly in love with someone—and to have that someone so disgustingly in love with me—someday because otherwise, MY GOD, hearing a person gush over things like pickles will be for nothing.
And please don’t get me wrong, the little things are the big things. Always. But it’s abundantly clear how many little things there really are when someone shares a daily inventory with people who haven’t even asked.
Related: I’m PMSing. Everything is irritating. Even (and especially) other people’s love. I’M SORRY, PEOPLE DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE. I’M SORRY. TELL ME ABOUT IT IN 5-7 DAYS.