Mundane Musing

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 107, 27 July 1927, Page 5

Mundane Musing

Anybody Seen a Minute?

By A MERE MALE I forget just when it was my wife discovered that she never had a minute to herself. A matter of years, anyway. So far as I’ve been able to see, the average wife makes the sad discovery within the first six months of married life —and mine was just about normal. Ever since then -’ie’s been trying to find one. Without unduly flattering myself, I think I can say that I have done more than extend a heartfelt sympathy. I have tried hard to find out just what is meant by a Minute to Herself, in order to try to give her one. I asked her once what she did mean by it, and received a pitying look. What was the good of talking to a man about such things Nevertheless I insisted on trying to find out. “You say you never have a minute to yourself, and it worries me. Are you on the go so much that you don’t get one spare minute during your waking hours?” “If I’m not actually working I’m

thinking of what I ought to be doing.” I thought hard. “Suppose you ever found a minute to yourself,” I said at length. “What would you do with it?” “There you go!” she cried, “you want to censor my actions. Is it anything to do with you how I should spend the time?” “Good heavens, no!” I replied fervently. “Do I ever ask you where you’ve been when you go out for the afternoon with Marjorie every Thursday?” “No,” she admitted, “you never seem to take any interest in what I do.” “You’ll never believe how it depresses me, though,” I went on, “to realise that wherever you are, or whatever you may be doing, your thoughts are actually with my socks, or the butcher, or some other sordid subject. I expect Marjorie is just the same, too. Both of you thinking of nothing else but the home, while Tom and I, cracking jokes with the boss at work, having a jolly time, never suspect you are unhappy.” She looked at me suspiciously. “Are you trying to be funny?” “I’ve never been more serious. And to prove it I’m going to sit you in the easy chair for at least an hour while I wash up.” “You’re going to do nothing of the kind!” she replied. “I’d sooner do anything than sit about wasting my time.” “But you needn’t waste your time,” I answered. “What about that letter you’ve been wanting to write for the last month?” “No —that’ll do when I can get a minute to myself.” On the whole I think this Minute business is best left alone! Stoves may be made to look nice for some time by rubbing them thoroughly with a newspaper every morning.