Shortly after we married, I found my husband savaging my window treatments. "What have you done to the swag?" I asked, eyeing a mess on the living-room floor that would never, ever again hang in crisp folds across a decorative rod. "I figured it was time to let the drapes do some work," he said. What drapes? Even the cat knew we had nothing hidden up there. Just the, uh, former swag.
I cried. How could I have married a man who would make a drape assumption? He was confused; he didn't realize he had married a woman who sobbed over...
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