Who shall say I am notthe happy genius of my household?

Night is a room darkened for lovers. . . .

At ten a.m. the young housewifemoves about in negligee behindthe wooden walls of her husband's house.I pass solitary in my car.

The husband and wife are one, and that one is the husband.

My dad, who my mom always refers to as DH for Darling Husband, was protrayed as a 'let's look on the bright side of things' kind of guy, the pillar my everbumbling mother leans on in times of distress.

Any man mortal or god, knows there is no handling a wife. Women handle themselves and intelligent men get out of the way.