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DADDY, BUY ME a HOUSE.
On winter nights when city people are enjoying themselves at a coctail party, I sit snowbowbound at home and meditate about all the strategies my wife used to trap me into buying house in the country.What am I doing here? I ask myself.
A man who is contented in the city, who loved his apartment, who was only fifty cents cab drive from my work!
How did I ever let somebody talk me into THIS..
We both grow up in the city and I thought we both loved city life. We had handsome new apartment overlooking Central Park where the Sanitation Department took care of the garbage and the landlord worried about the heat. It was an idyllic existence- or so i thought.
We'd been in this apartment only six months when she began dropping the first hints..
One day she said to me : " I don't know what it is, but I just feel stifled. I feel so confined in these surroundings".
I suggested she take off her girdle and spread out a little.
She gave me a nasty look and stalked out of the room.
She suddenly started complaining about everything.
" Close the window", she told me one afternoon. It was July eight and about 100 degrees outside.
"You want me to close window'?, I asked incrediously.
" The dirt, the soot and the noises are driving me crazy"
A few days later she came up with a new one.
" I have such an overhelming desire to get some knowledge about the good earth"..
That one was easy. I went out and bought her the book.
She tossed it aside and looked sorrowfully at me.
" I am talking about garden loam..are you not interested in roses and violets and daisies ?"
When the agent came to collect the rent, she said "Alan, why pay rent? We could be saving this money."
I ignored her.
Finaly she used the direct approach, the one she always uses to get her own way- crying.
" I want the house' she wailed " i can not live here any more, I do not have any friends here. Everybody is moving to the suburbs."
She made it sounds like an exodus. I gues somebody cut the ribbon, fired a pistol,and the land rush was on.
I could just see those gallant pioneers on Queen Boulevard in theirs covered wagons with the mink stoles hanging out the back, yelling " Onward to the SUBURBS"......
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