There are women whose thoughtful husbands buy them flowers for no reason. And then there’s me. One day I couldn’t stand it any longer. "Why don’t you ever bring me flowers?" I asked.

"What’s the point?" my husband said. "They die after about a week."

"So could you," I shot back, "but I still like having you around."

My wife and her friend Karen were talking about their labor-saving devices as they pulled into our driveway. Karen said, “I love my new garage-door opener.”

“I love mine too,” my wife replied, and honked the horn three times. That was the signal for me to come out and open the garage.

I was cleaning a hotel room when the previous occupant came in, looking for her husband’s keys.

We searched high and low without luck. I finally peeked underneath the bed closest to the wall.

"Don’t bother—that was my bed," she said. "He wouldn’t have gone anywhere near it."

An item for sale on craigslist....

"Antique sewing table refinished by my wife, $30. [If she’s home, $100.]"