Thou kissest me once in the morning, once in the evening, and twice upon Christmas Day.
Thou clingest unto thine old pipe as unto thy reputation. Thou callest every woman by the same pet name.
Lo, what would my Beloved be without his habits? Even as a doggie’s tail which hath lost its “wag”! But thy heart, oh, my Beloved, is full of lightning changes. Its capacity is inexhaustible.
The memory of yesterday’s kiss is unto thee as the memory of yesterday’s dinner—sweet, but not satisfying.
Yet, though thy heart changeth many times, I, thy wife, am become one of thy habits!
Behold thou hast placed “Mrs.” upon my name; thou hast glorified me with a wedding ring!
Therefore, I am become thy doormat. Yea, I am as thy footstool.
I shall mend thy socks with rejoicing, and the replacing of thy buttons shall be my delight.
All the days of thy life, shall I clean thy safety razor and put the studs in thy shirts.
Then, cast thine ashes over my dressing table and strew my carpets with cigar stumps.