Now that I have a child I find I'm not allowed to be a stereotype...
Ah the good old days of staying up and sleeping in. How I miss your wasteful charms.
Sat morning, I'm up at dawn like every other day because my son thinks it is a reasonable time to wake up. INTP husband makes cappuccinos . (I don't cause I don't know how to use the machine and I don't plan on learning cause I like being served frothy milk drinks with lewd designs swirled on the top. Latte art, don'tcha know?)
INTP looks after son for the day, and I write til my head implodes which is around dinner time.
For Js, well my mother-in-law is an ISTJ and she is a powerhouse of getting-things-done, Saturdays are no exception.
I sometimes am scared to go over to her house because she'll actually list out, item by item, every single thing she has done that day. In. Excruciating. Detail. At which point her
son abandons me.
By the time we leave, a little portion of me has begun to die. INTP gives me a sheepish grin and says he thought I was enjoying the conversation. Lying bastard.