Chapter 4: Everything Is Interdependent
“Well you know, Mrs Cohen, you really must give me some idea of your taste, otherwise I will not even be able to get started. What is it exactly that you have in mind?”
“Decor, schmecor. What I want is that when my friends come to visit, they will take one look and drop dead!”
The young couple was engaged in a most affectionate embrace when there came the sound of a key in the front door.
The young lady broke away at once, eyes wide with alarm. “Heavens!” she cried, “it is my husband. Quick, jump out of the window!”
The young man, equally alarmed, made a step towards the window, then demurred. “I can’t! We are on the thirteenth floor!”
“For heaven’s sake!” cried the young lady in exasperation. “Is this a time to be superstitious?”
The wife came home wearing a new hat. “Where did you get that hat?” her husband asked.
“At a clearance sale.”
“No wonder they wanted to clear it out,” he said. “It makes you look like an idiot.”
“I know it.”
“Then why in the world did you buy it?” he demanded.
“I will tell you,” she said. “When I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror, I looked too stupid to argue with the clerk.”
Mulla Nasruddin was telling me that marriage is the process of finding out what kind of man your wife would have preferred.
“My wife said to me this morning, “If you really loved me, you would have married someone else.”
I assured her that I was very happy being married to her, and said, “If I could change places with Richard Burton, I would not do it.”
She said, “I know you wouldn’t. You never do anything to please me.”
Enough for today.