Dr. Fiancé came up with a division of wedding labor to help us stay off each others’ toes, thereby keeping bickering to a minimum. Or perhaps to a medium. He’s in charge of logistics and I’m in charge of “artistics.” This after I had failed yet again to call the woman at the inn to book the cabins for our guests.
“So you’ll call the lady, then?”
Dr. Fiancé got that impish Tom Sawyer look in his eye and explained that people are more “art” than “logic,” so interacting with humanity falls to me.
Where did I find this guy?