How is it done?

I wanted to be a wife. Wives do not guzzle and do not scribble poems and stories; do not hide them in the old suitcases. Wives bring home groceries, balance the bottle of ketchup on the top of the bag and kick the head of the cabbage in front of them. Wives cook, wash the dishes, clean and run vacuum cleaner, take out the garbage, clean a litter box, and feed the cat. Wives do the laundry, mend the clothes, darn the socks, suck their sore thumb, and iron. Wives take care of the flower beds, rake the leaves, polish the shoes, knit and crochet, clean and help. Wives nod, agree and listen, and serve enthusiastically in the day, and in the night, too. Wives do not talk back, are not stubborn, and do not guzzle, do not smoke. I wanted to be a wife. "A wife is the neck, which moves the head." I was told. How is it done? I wanted to be a wife. A husband preferred younger, giggling women. How to lure him away from them? How to lure him on? How is it done? Copyright (c) 2007 Marie Neumann, Stephenville, Texas