One of the women I work with has a really good relationship with her husband (whom I also get along with fine), but recently I learned just how devoted she is to him.
She is dyslexic, and he happens to have one of those double-digit-lettered Polish last names. And now, so does she.
There’s an old joke about the difference between “involved” and “committed.” In a ham and eggs breakfast, the chicken was involved, but the pig was committed.
This woman is committed.