The Wife was cold.
Understandable. This is because it was a clear and crisp winter’s morning. The temperature in single digits.
The Wife was exhausted.
Understandable, but less so. She’d just climbed a hill. Not Kilimanjaro or Everest, which would have been more proportional to the extent of exhaustion, but a hill. Love, if you read this, I’m sorry but it’s true.