READ TIME: 2.00 MINS
My days as a housewife were routine, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but without highlight. They were so marked by uneventfulness that the week was planed to a fine evenness from which nothing ever rose to interrupt my boredom.
My mother complained to me that I was lazy. Perhaps I was, but my husband was a good provider. There was simply no need for me to work and I had no wish to be tied down performing some unpaid, menial task. To work for others without payment was not my idea of fun.
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